Walk Tall, Peanut
by SunkenMeasure
Summary: Peanut thought he was going to be the king's knight yet he has become the queen's fool. What else is there for him?
1. Beta Male

**17.11.2010 - IMPORTANT NOTICE! **Do you have the habit of skimming through stories looking for mentions of or appearances by your favorite characters? The reading aid in my profile ought to help you find your way around this fic!

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**Author's Notes: **This fic is mostly Peanut-centric, but I'm also trying to flesh out other characters. My interpretation of Lola may not sit well with some fans, but know that I don't hate her. Both straight and non-straight pairings and sexual acts are possible in the future, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

English isn't my native language! If you find grammatical errors, punish me for them or I'll never learn.

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**Chapter 1: Beta Male**

Larry "Peanut" Romano, the stern and steady right-hand man in the greaser clique in Bullworth, couldn't help but to be feel conflicted about Lola Lombardi, his best friend's girlfriend. She had come to be so many things to him. At first, she had been a crush. His first one, in fact. Then, when Johnny had won her over, she had become his only female friend that he hung out with on regular basis.

Most recently though, Larry had started to hate her guts. It was their senior year and Lola hadn't toned down her man-eating habits at all, not the slightest. She kept choosing the worst possible moments for her infidelity too. It was threatening to give him stomach ulcer at a staggeringly young age.

"So, Lola. Where we goin'?"

The autumn night was surprisingly cold. Larry was probably going to be fine, but he was worried about the skimpily clad young woman walking right next to him. If she were to become ill, she would no doubt be even more of a hassle than she already was.

"You're gonna accompany me to the clothes shop today. You wouldn't want the townies to be all over me, would ya?" Lola chuckled and poked Larry's shoulder playfully.

The brown-haired male didn't answer, only glanced at her with his dark eyes before turning his attention back to the ground.

Once again, the melancholic youth longed for the simple times. Or, at least, simpl_er_ times. When he had first become a member of the greasers, he and Johnny had been fierce rivals. Lola, back then the princess of the group rather than the queen, had been the catalyst for the two of them. She hadn't been the only thing that their rivalry had extended to, but it had at least been a competition: competitions were easy to understand.

"What's the matter, Larry dear? You used to be so much more... Expressive", Lola said with a debauched voice.

Larry shuddered.

"It's Peanut to you", he grunted. At first he had hated that nickname, but now he felt that anything was better than what Lola called him when they had still been together.

Lola giggled and latched onto his arm as they walked side by side.

"Oh c'mon, Johnny won't mind", the girl said as the disgruntled greaser shot a deterring glare at her.

He sighed. Lola said a lot of things, but they both knew just as well that they had to be careful not to mention about this kind of stuff to Johnny. Sometimes Larry wondered whether things would be easier if he had become the leader. Or if he hadn't ever even tried to become one. When the graduation of the toughest greasers had drawn near back in the day, Larry and Johnny had become lieutenants of sorts and the tension had become unbearable. The air between them became a toxic compound and everyone else avoided them, although the other greasers were evenly sided with both. It had been clear that the battle for leadership would be fought between the two.

Lola's presence had made the concoction all the more dangerous. Back then, she had still been a kitten that was practicing the use of her claws. She had seemed to tremendously enjoy seeing Johnny, an extroverted, spontaneous, and impulsive personality, and Larry, a more broody, reserved, and calculative guy duke it out together and she hadn't saved her ammunition. Once, Johnny had ended up with broken bones because the pair had tumbled down a flight of stairs during a fight.

Nowadays, Larry wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something like that happened.

Suddenly the greaser stopped and looked up, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

"... This ain't the clothes shop", Larry commented, realizing that he had let the young woman lead himself somewhere totally different while he had been deep in thought.

This was the bar that was owned by a friend of Lucky's friend and one of the only places to get booze relatively safely if you were underage.

"I need a drink", Lola said bluntly and dragged the boy indoors.

Larry wasn't going to care where they were going. It was Friday, but as long as he didn't drink anything alcoholic himself, he'd be okay. Lola usually only became more withdrawn and irritable when she was drunk, so misunderstandings weren't likely to happen. He had to admit, Johnny had won himself quite a strange queen. Nowadays, Larry couldn't even really understand what he himself had seen in her. Apart from the good looks. And her adventurous and bold personality. And her insatiable sex drive.

Oh okay, maybe he really did understand what his younger self had craved for.

Larry had, fortunately, given up the fight for Lola and the greaser clique. This hadn't been because he had been wise or anything though, but because of a notorious incident that he caused. He had been antsy about proving himself to be tougher than Johnny by messing around with a certain Tad Spencer. To piss him off, Larry, Hal, Lucky, and Ricky had sneaked into the Spencer Shipping warehouse to destroy valuable goods in the middle of the night. That hadn't been too smart a move.

"Hmmm. I wonder what I should have. I don't have much money though", Lola mused to herself as she was about to order a drink.

"It's on me", Larry grunted and mentally made the decision to have a Beam Cola while he dug his wallet from his pocket to see how much was in it.

"Oh, isn't that sweet of you", the girl beamed, as if she didn't know that Larry would've had to pay for the drinks anyway.

When the two sat down to drink, Lola scrutinized Larry with gleaming eyes like she hadn't seen him in ages.

"What", the youth asked flatly.

"Nothing! I just thought that you sure have grown. I wonder if you've grown down _there _as well", the lush brunette wondered and her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

Larry looked at her unflinchingly. Nothing she said to him surprised him anymore.

"It's just us, y'know. You don't hafta put up an act", he said unenthusiastically and took a sip of soda.

Lola rolled her eyes and stirred his colorful drink with her cocktail stick.

"You've become so boring lately", she sighed, her voice losing her usual excitement.

Larry took that as a compliment.

"I can't say I couldn't understand why, though. I mean, the only way you can keep Johnny happy is by keeping _me _happy", Lola said with a cynical tone and drank the last of her drink in one go.

Larry did the same with his soda.

"I owe it to Johnny that I ain't in juvenile hall or somethin'. It don't matter what I gotta do, I wanna keep him happy 'n' outta trouble."

Larry's little warehouse operation had gone well right up until they had been spotted by the workers. The gang had split up and scrammed into different directions, confusing their chasers. When someone had noticed that Larry wasn't anywhere to be found, they hadn't had any other option but to get Johnny and the rest of the greasers to find him. When they had found him, he had been in the warehouse, panicked and broken-boned under an expensive statue that had fallen on him while he had hid behind it. They had busted him out safely without the workers noticing, miraculously. Larry had been very fortunate that Tad Spencer had found out it was his doing only a lot, lot later.

"That's not all, is it Peanut", Lola suddenly said.

Larry hemmed.

She was right, though: that wasn't all of it. After the accident at the warehouse, Larry's attitude towards Johnny had changed completely. He had been genuinely touched by his efforts to save him. He had straightforwardly announced that he would give up on both the leadership and Lola Lombardi's affection and he had become Johnny's most fiercely loyal follower. Everyone had seemed to have been relieved by the turn of events.

Except for the then newly crowned queen of the greasers.

"Poor, poor Peanut. Always wanting something he can't have", Lola drawled, observing her friend expectantly.

Larry frowned and was about to express his disapproval of the direction their conversation was heading, but he halted as he noticed that there was something odd about Lola's face. It wasn't just her maniacal smile, but also the way her entire head seemed to warp into different shapes. Very disturbing shapes.

"What... What did you... Your head issss...", Larry slurred.

Things got awfully dark for some reason.


	2. Slept Through the Fireworks

**Author's Notes: **I don't know _that_ much about date rape drugs and how they work, so I hope you can just roll with it.

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**Chapter 2: Slept Through the Fireworks**

When Larry really thought about it, Johnny's unofficial coronation may not have been the best thing ever to happen to the greaser clique. Then again, very few of the current leaders were like that to their respective cliques. So, it was mostly okay.

Johnny really had started a new, rather strange era for the greasers. Larry – completely and utterly ashamed of his conduct during the Spencer incident – never again felt fully comfortable leading his fellow greasers even in Johnny's absence, so that position fell to Norton. Instead, Larry had started to fiercely protect and serve Johnny and Lola. Although he sometimes questioned it himself as well, never after that had he truly felt romantically interested in Lola. That's why it worked.

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows though. The ups and downs of his relationship with the sensual femme fatale eventually brought up the highly jealous and vindictive side of Johnny Vincent. Before he had realized Lola's full impact, Larry had found himself in a rather unique position in the clique: in turns, he served as Johnny's right hand man and in turns as Lola's nanny. One whose job was to keep the floozy from being bored and to spy on her to keep Johnny from being too paranoid.

Of course, Larry had had to face Johnny's suspicion and rash judgment several times, but his undying loyalty to the two had managed to save his neck just as many times as Lola's disloyalty had endangered it. Out of all things, it had probably been Larry's loyalty that had made things too complicated, however. He had eventually become the friend of them both, and he had genuinely wanted to believe the best of them. It was too bad that, somewhere along the way, they had both picked up the habit of not even remotely proving his beliefs to be true. Or maybe Larry's expectations had become too high at some point. Or maybe Larry's deepening, possibly misdirected infatuation towards his boss was getting to him.

Who knows.

The only thing Larry Romano really knew at this point was that he was royally screwed. The whole greaser clique minus Norton, Lola, and Johnny were all gathered in the Blue Balls Pool Hall, glaring at him expectantly. The guys, too, knew that Larry was in very serious trouble.

"There's an explanation to this... But the boss ain't ever gonna believe me", Larry stated, as if it wasn't obvious.

He looked horrible. His hair was a mess, his face was pale, and there were bags under his eyes. He felt horrible too – he had the worst hangover he'd ever gotten from drinking Beam Cola and his stomach had probably started digesting itself in the absence of food.

"How many days have I been gone anyways? Also: is there anything to drink or eat here?" he asked faintly.

The guys winced at him, their initial shock and anger slowly dampening into grudging sympathy. Ricky stood up and went to the soda machine, receiving a can of soda with a loud clank. He thought about throwing it to Larry but after he assessed his condition, he withdrew his hand and scooted to the boy sitting on the chair in the middle of the room to hand the can over.

"I last saw ya on Friday and today's Sunday... And I don't think there's any food here. Hal?" Lucky harrumphed.

"What, whatcha asking me for? I got nothin'", the grumpy plump greaser shot back hastily.

Meanwhile, Larry bit his lip as he stared at his open Beam Cola can. Yeah, this sugary liquid had definitely been among the few things he could associate with the time before blacking out. Too dehydrated to be picky about the choice of drink, he took a long hearty gulp.

"So, anyways. What's happened while I've been gone?" he asked as he swallowed the bubbly beverage, grimacing at the carbonated liquid prickling in his dry throat.

"Well, uh...", Lucky said, shuffling his feet.

Awkwardness hung thickly in the air and everyone seemed embarrassed.

"The pictures appeared in boss's room yesterday mornin'. When we asked Lola about 'em, she told us that you got her drunk and banged her. Johnny got furious, I mean really fuckin' FURIOUS and we've been lookin' for ya ever since. We gathered here a little while ago to try an' make some sense of this", Vance finally explained.

"So, where have ya been?" Lefty asked.

Larry tossed the can, now empty, into the general direction of the nearest trash can. It missed by a mile.

"I woke up some two hours ago in an abandoned apartment. The last thing I remember is bein' at the usual bar, drinkin' soda with Lola. Came here after I managed to find my clothes."

The five other greasers looked at him doubtfully.

"No, for serious. It was soda. No amount of liquor makes you sleep for two days anyways. Lola must've taken a leaf outta Edna's book."

Larry looked to the side, locating the envelope with the pictures that the guys had angrily shoved into his face prior to informing them of his very feeble state by collapsing on the floor.

"Also, I don't think I've got anythin' up in those pictures. Just sayin'."

The greasers looked at each other, at the same time peering at Larry hesitantly. All except one.

"Well, I dunno about anyone else, but I believe ya", Ricky stated.

"I have no idea why she'd deliberately do anythin' like this, but this has Lola written all over it."

Oh Ricky, always assuming either the best or worst of women.

Just when the other greasers were about to speak up, the door to the Blue Balls Pool Hall opened and Norton marched in, looking somewhat tired and ruffled. When he laid his eyes on Larry, his lips formed a thin, tight line.

"Lola?" he asked with a serious tone.

"Yep. Lola", Larry answered weakly.

With just that, the black youngster understood. When he nodded at Larry, the rest of the clique members looked down, gloomily. They had no reason to not trust the two most influential greasers after Johnny and Lola.

"Listen man, you gotta get outta here. One of the nerds he and Hopkins beat into lookin' for ya saw ya comin' here, that's how I found out. It won't be long till Johnny's comin' here cravin' for blood", Norton warned with a deep, concerned voice.

Everyone looked at Larry, who shook his head low and slow and sucked on his dry lips, trying to moisten them.

"Guess I'll crawl back where I came from since you guys couldn't find me there...", he mumbled.


	3. Hearing the Violins

**Author's Notes: **If Vance is your favorite manwhore in the game, I apologize: he was going to be a lot in this chapter, but I replaced most of him with Ricky.

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**Chapter 3: Hearing the Violins**

Ricky Pucino had volunteered to keep an eye on the much weakened, much shaken Larry. The rest were out there, busy pretending to be searching for the two and dropping false clues. It was probably the first time ever that all of Johnny Vincent's underlings were working against him, Ricky reckoned as he climbed up the stairs to the temporary hiding place.

The younger greaser had looked up to Larry for a long time. At first, he had thought of him as a total buzzkill though – he had seemed just a bit too eager to sabotage any other guy's chances with Lola. It also had seemed that he hovered over the royal pair's relationship, ready to swoop down and take Lola if something went wrong. Ricky couldn't have had been more mistaken about that though. Larry's allegiance had always been first and foremost with Johnny, as Ricky had been bound to notice when things went awry. Whatever happened, Larry was there to support Johnny; even when he was in one of those moods when you couldn't tell whether he's going to break up in tears or lash out at you and gouge your eyes out, Larry took one for the team and went first to talk to him. Having gone through a painful break-up or few in his life, Ricky knew that friends like that were a privilege.

"Hey, Peanut?" Ricky asked carefully as he peeked through the door to the run-down apartment.

The elder greaser was sitting on a dirty mattress, leaning with his elbows on his knees and supporting his face with his hands. He looked crappier than at Blue Balls Pool Hall, if that was even possible.

"Gotcha some food", Ricky announced and held up a plastic bag emblazoned with the logo of the newly reopened Chinese restaurant.

"Thanks Ricky. I'm starvin'", Larry said while rubbing his temples. He sighed deep.

Ricky looked at him with concern. He looked more vulnerable than before.

"Y'know Peanut, they're probably expecting us to think of some sorta plan to keep you from becomin' Johnny's new chew toy", Ricky reminded bleakly.

"I know. I know... Whatcha think I'm doin' right now?" Larry responded, his voice cracking slightly.

The younger greaser walked up to him and handed him a take-away box and a pair of chopsticks. Then he took the same for himself and sat on an old coffee table that stood near the mattress. As Ricky ate, Larry simply stared at his food blankly.

"Oy. Peanut. Your engine won't run without fuel", Ricky scolded.

"Sorry. I just realized the shit I'm in, Ricky. This could be the last meal I eat."

"Don't be such a drama queen. We're gonna sort this out. Besides, Johnny ain't killin' a friend either way."

"I think I'm already dead", Larry said with a shaky voice.

Abruptly, he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his chopsticks in favor of rubbing his hand across his eyes. He did it with considerable force, maybe trying to keep tears at bay. Ricky saw a bit of himself in him: the resemblance to him during his post-breakup trauma was uncanny. But, the circumstances were all different. How do you console a person during times like this? The younger greaser felt useless as he looked at his senior fighting back an emotional breakdown.

No amount of comforting would've gotten through to Larry even if he had known what to say, though. Larry was in the pits, so far down that his heart was splitting out of anxiety. He had been in sticky situations thanks to Lola before, but this was all different. He had never had to speak _against_ Lola when it came to her infidelity.

"What the hell did I do to piss Lola off?" Larry asked from himself, catching Ricky off guard.

A sliver of doubt sneaked into the younger greaser's mind. Ricky's eyebrows twitched and he fumbled for words. He had to be careful about what he said.

"So, um. Peanut, I hate to ask this... But..."

Hell, he had to get it over with.

"Are you sure there ain't somethin' goin' on with you an' Lola?"

Larry raised his head to look at Ricky with his tired, desperate eyes. The junior immediately felt bad about asking that.

"There's nothin'. There couldn't have been anythin'."

This was true. It was perhaps hard for anyone else to believe, but it was true. There occasionally were rumors going around saying that he was boning Lola behind Johnny's back, but they were always false and the three people concerned knew it. Those had been the only kinds of rumors concerning Lola that Johnny never really swallowed even though he gave a lot of crap about them.

That was, however, until the evidence had come prancing along. Happily provided by Lola, it seemed. The worst part was, there was a very logical explanation to why Larry would absolutely never touch Lola in the first place and it was tempting to announce it to the world now just to escape suspicion. But, it would ruin him and his status quo with both Lola and Johnny.

"All I can think of is that I've pissed Lola off somehow and she don't want me to be Johnny's friend no more", Larry huffed.

Ricky shook his head irately.

"This fuckin' sucks man. I'm gettin' so tired of that skank", he grumbled.

Ricky's words stung, but what he said mirrored Larry's feelings to a tee.

Way back, right after Johnny's rise to the lead, Larry had actually become friends with the greaser queen. He had become both Johnny's and Lola's respected confidante: a diplomat between them. He'd listen to their worries and in turn they would allow him to reason with them. While Johnny was often oblivious to what was happening below him, Lola and Larry had always had a quiet agreement about how things worked. Unexpectedly, that had become fruitful grounds for friendship. Lola actually reminded Larry of his older sister who had gone to a college on the other side of the country during the beginnings of Johnny's leadership. Larry, on the other hand, was one of the very few gents who didn't want to get into Lola's pants. They had become rather comfortable with each other.

Perhaps too comfortable. With the way he had been around her, he had probably been begging for something like this to happen. A long, frustrated sigh rippled through Larry's throat when he counted the ways that he had set this thing up with his very own actions.

"I don't even know if I can hate Lola. It's like hatin' lighting for strikin' people down", he said, rationalizing with himself.

Ricky nodded.

Suddenly, the two heard a rattle from the door. Larry's heart jumped into his throat and Ricky took to his feet cautiously.

When the door opened, Vance came in.

"Whoa, easy guys", he said as he saw the boys' alarmed expressions.

"Whew", Ricky said, chuckling at himself for being so easy to scare. Larry mumbled something incomprehensible, relieved.

"So, have ya found anythin'?" Ricky asked.

Vance swallowed and looked at his fellow greasers. His troubled, apologetic expression made Larry lose all hope.

"We went to the bar and tried to figure out what happened there. But all we found out was that yes, you and Lola were there on Friday, and that the bartender that had his shift during that time is outta town."

"Shit", Ricky cursed and ran his hand through his slicked hair.

"There's more... Johnny knows we're shelterin' you. He lashed out at Norton and told me to tell ya that he expects you at the Hole tonight. At midnight."

Vance bit his lower lip and watched as Ricky's eyes shot wide open. Larry's eyes did the exact opposite.

"But Peanut's in no condition to fight!" Ricky objected.

"I know, it's not like I called the shots or anythin'! I mean, we're tryin' our best to get Johnny calm down but he don't listen! We barely managed to stop him from bargin' in here!" Vance barked back angrily.

After that, the three were in total silence. Ricky and Vance looked at their friend and respected senior with all their sympathies.

"Better try eatin' up, then. I wanna be able to walk there with my own feet", Larry said and picked up his chopsticks. He took a bite of his food, now cooled down and not at all appetizing to him.

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Come midnight, Larry "Peanut" Romano was feeling strangely numb again. In turns, he felt like breaking down, then like nothing at all. Calm before a storm, as the saying went. He looked to his sides as he marched forward: students regardless of age, sex, and social class flowed towards the Hole at the same time as he did but they stayed away from him. The way others looked at him was as if he was a ghost. Well, he would soon be one, so maybe that was appropriate.

"Hum... Sorry Peanut, but I don't think I can cheer for ya 'cause... Y'know", Hal said apologetically.

Vance, who walked next to him, nodded sadly upon hearing those words. Johnny would skewer them if they were to do that.

"It's alright Hal. It's alright", Larry said understandingly even though the reason why Hal had to tell him this beforehand eluded him.

"Well, we'll patch you both up when you're done. We're all be laughin' at this some day, I know it", Vance said with a high-strung, forced laugh.

"Yeah, totally", Hal agreed nervously.

These guys were clueless.


	4. Trip to the Pink Drink Land

**Chapter 4: Trip to the Pink Drink Land**

The Hole was a miraculous place. For some reason, somebody had decided that Bullworth Academy needed humongous sewers and a huge draining pool under it. The most common theory for that was that someone botched with the measurements while drawing the plans and accidentally made the place a few sizes too large. As a result, it was unnecessarily big for its intended purpose but it was a great place to play games and hold duels.

Even more astonishing was that the principal didn't know what students meant when they talked about the Hole. He knew that there was vacant space under the school and that there was an underground fighting ring, but he just had never been able to make the connection. A big thanks for that went to the janitor, Dennis Luntz, actually. That man hated everyone, especially the principal, and loved to see kids beating the hell out of each other. Furthermore, he accepted cash.

When Larry reached the Hole, brilliantly lit compared to the rest of the sewer, he felt dizzy and disoriented. Whatever Lola had spiked his soda with, some of it was still coursing through his system. When he got used to the lights and started to hear again, he realized there was quite a crowd: even some townies were there. Someone even seemed to have a video camera. Larry figured that Johnny had wanted his execution to be as public as it could possibly be.

And there he was, standing boldly in the middle of the empty draining pool, accompanied by Norton. Johnny Vincent. His dark eyes pierced the space between Larry and him and his seething fury was evident even from where Larry was standing. Norton was looking at Larry too: he seemed to plea him to not come. Out of all the people present in or around the improvised fighting ring, he understood Larry's anguish the best.

Well, there was one possible exception. The black greaser looked to the side and seemed to gesture Larry that he should look there too. Lola was standing there, smiling victoriously as she basked in Johnny Vincent's explosive wrath. Larry's heart sunk at the sight. The rest of his high school life was probably depending on the mercy of that demon. He gulped as he started climbing down the ladder. As he did that, the Hole suddenly became a lot quieter.

"Well, well, well. Peanut, or should I say, Brutus. You finally decided to show up, you treacherous snake!" Johnny said with a low, ominous voice, only interrupted by a tiny maniacal jitter somewhere in the middle.

"Sorry boss. I overslept", Larry said flatly as he turned to face the king of the greasers.

He quickly caught a glimpse of Norton climbing up the ladder behind Johnny. Now he was truly alone.

"No excuses, ya little shit! Me 'n' Lola, we both trusted you, look what happened!" the enraged greaser hissed.

Larry squinted his eyes. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of version of the story his friend was buying.

"You get my precious queen drunk, do disgusting things with her, hide like a scared lil' girl, and then have the _gall _to spread shitty lies!"

Oh, okay. That cleared things up a bit.

"Uh, well, boss...", Larry started, but was cut off.

"If you think I'm gonna believe some pathetic story about Lola, MY LOLA, druggin' you, you've got another thing comin'! You fuckin' sicko!" Johnny roared.

Defeated, Larry took a deep breath. At least he had _tried_ to get to him. Then, Johnny turned to the audience, spreading his arms brashly as he pointed at other people with his fingers as if they were guns.

"It don't matter who you are! Who you're friends with or how strong you think you are! If you touch my Lola, my queen, I'm gonna beat you down, with my bare hands, and make, you, **KNEEL**!" Johnny raged.

The Hole was very quiet for a moment, waiting for him to say more, but when he remained quiet, everyone cheered. This was going to be one hell of a show. Johnny turned his attention back at his opponent, who looked back at him in a daze.

"Ready to lose, Peanut?" he asked hoarsely and lunged at Larry.

Larry stumbled backwards, barely dodging a hard punch straight into his face. He could no longer match up to Johnny in a one-on-one match and with his feet this unstable, this was going to be a curb stomp fight, he reckoned. He felt sorry for people who had bet on him, if there were any.

There was another incoming punch and Larry had no chance of dodging it this time. It hit his lower ribs, hard. Johnny backed out, marveling his work as his right-hand man grunted and bent forward from the pain.

"Look at the vulgar paupers beating themselves silly!" Larry thought he heard some preppie say. Everyone in the Hole was cheering wildly, except the greasers themselves.

"I shoulda known. You were always so buddy-buddy with my girl. My mistake, I suppose, since you ain't but a liability. Shoulda pounded you into your place ages ago!" Johnny growled.

Larry's eyes shot open and he looked upwards. The crowd probably couldn't hear a thing, and Larry had trouble hearing it too. Nevertheless, it stung. It stung far more than the punch he had gotten. Even if it were just the anger making his friend unreasonable, it was a horrible thing to say.

In his stupor, the shorter greaser let his defenses drop entirely. His arms dropping to his sides was Johnny's cue: the greaser king let out a bestial snarl and landed a punch squarely in Larry's face. The weakened youth fell down hard and, for a brief moment, he thought it was over. A loud buzz covered the sound of students insulting him for not putting up a fight and the world seemed to spin before his eyes when he tried to open them.

Then, though, he heard Johnny's voice piercing the deafening noise.

"Get up, Larry, pal."

At first, Larry thought he had simply imagined it. That friendly, assertive voice that always made butterflies flutter in his stomach for reasons he wished he had never found out about.

_Sheesh_, he thought to himself, _that's all I can think of right now? I really am pretty fuckin' queer_.

Then he heard Johnny's voice again.

"Get up buddy. I'm so disappointed in you. Friends don't screw around with their friends' women!"

Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through Larry's veins. The invigorating effect of adrenaline started to pull his mind back to the surface and returned some of the much needed strength into his limbs. Slowly, he stood up to meet Johnny's dark, demanding gaze with his own eyes, full of cold, passive fury.

"Now we're talkin'!" Johnny cheered. Approving whistles came from the crowd.

"Right", Larry said, nodding. He seemed to be very determined, although for a different reason than everyone else thought. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and then, he grabbed his leather jacket. Boldly at first, but then tentatively as he looked at his fellow greasers looking at him and Johnny.

Johnny's little words of wisdom from just a moment ago came back to haunt him:

_I'm so disappointed in you. Friends don't screw around with their friends' women!_

Disgusting, Larry thought. How dare he talk about friendship at this point, with that voice? He had held their friendship higher than anything. Higher than three square meals a day. Higher than his dignity. Higher than his inexplicable, torturous need to be closer to his friend. There had been so many times when he could've taken advantage of Johnny's anger, confusion, and intoxication to try to get more of him, but he had valued what they had and had kept to himself. It had been hard to pull off, and this was his thanks.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he himself should be blamed. His priorities were... Sort of skewed. He had given up his dignity and the fulfillment of his basic needs for their friendship and Johnny had done the same for his relationship with Lola. How was he any different? Larry looked at his prized leather jacket, now off his shoulders and in his hands, not feeling the empowering rush of anger anymore. He had gotten so many fierce, blaming words billowing inside him, but they were slowly draining away, slipping through his fingers.

He looked up, swallowing and glancing at the impatient spectators. Then he looked at Johnny. He extended his arm in front of him, holding his jacket.

"From now on, I'm no longer a greaser", he said with a strong, clear voice and let the jacket drop onto the damp, dirty floor. It lay there, among the dry leaves and bits of dirt that had come in with the rainwater.

Johnny looked at him doubtfully, but Larry's face didn't even twitch.

"I've had enough. If Lola ain't leavin', I ain't stayin'. Do your worst", he added calmly. He had always wanted to do something dramatic like this. Too bad the circumstances were kind of lousy.

His leader's look of suspicion turned into confusion, but only for a moment. The anger came back multiplied when his earlier words hit him: Larry was leaving. By Johnny's standards, that was somehow very unfair and unreasonable.

"FINE!" Johnny Vincent roared and kicked the poor, defenseless leather jacket to the side with a furious swing of his leg. Then he launched a head-on attack against his ex-best friend.

* * *

Meanwhile, somewhere in the crowd, Christy Martin was having a rumorgasm. This fight would provide fuel for so many rumors you wouldn't believe. The guy everybody knew as Peanut was unsteady on his feet as he tried to block and dodge Johnny's punches and kicks and he did so with considerable skill and fluidity despite his lack of coordination. The way he refused to attack his friend was also deliciously tragic.

"Amazing! He knows drunken fist kung-fu!" she heard Ethan Robinson yell in surprise and admiration.

Johnny shot vicious, provocative insults at Larry, but he seemed to only get more reluctant to fight him. He hadn't thrown a single punch at him and he wasn't going to. This infuriated Johnny beyond belief and he swore to punch his teeth into his throat.

Then, the scuffle came to an abrupt halt. Johnny seemed to be hesitating to attack for some reason.

"Hello, Earth to Peanut?" he said, trying to not sound worried.

Larry couldn't hear him though. All the sounds flowing into his ears were muddled into something horrific he couldn't even identify as human. The young man's face was totally lacking of color other than the blood from his bruises when he looked around him, his sight clouded. His usually stern and fearless eyes seemed scared and lost as they stared into the hazy crowd and the darkness of the sewers.

Larry could feel a cold sweat break on his skin everywhere as he tried to focus on something, anything. The walls and the floor seemed to faze out of existence, somehow, and people seemed to be standing on thin air. When he looked in front of him, he saw Johnny's familiar feet. When he tried to follow his legs up with his eyes, he suddenly started falling. He fell really deep, somewhere where there was nothing but darkness and strangely luminous, red water. His limbs became powerless in the cold liquid, so he started to drown.

And drown he did.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **So yeah, I call the place you may fall into during a glitch "Pink Drink Land" because I'm lame. The mission "Letterbox Armageddon" always sends me there before the graphs load and it's trippy.


	5. Resignation

**Chapter 5: Resignation**

When Monday dawned at Bullworth Academy, the rumors started. The story of what happened in the Hole was repeated to those who didn't live on campus in so many ways, that it was impossible to keep count. The wildest version was probably one where Peanut's brain was fried by Johnny Vincent's latent mind-raping psychic powers. Looking at the greaser clique and how the members behaved, there could've been some truth to that. Johnny, and by extension Lola, seemed to be unanimously feared among them. Though Johnny tried to be as calm and collected as possible, an atmosphere of anxiety and hurt loomed over him and his henchmen as he tried to converse with them.

It was, at the very least, understandable: if Johnny could beat his best friend into a coma, who knew what he could do to the rest?

The credit for saving Peanut belonged mostly to Jimmy Hopkins and Beatrice Trudeau. After Larry lost his consciousness, Jimmy had snagged a cell phone from one of the townies to call an ambulance and controlled the crowd so Peanut could be carried out of the Hole safely, according to instructions from the sworn doctor-to-be Beatrice. Nobody wanted the Hole to be found, after all.

When Johnny Vincent was called into the principal's office, everybody was holding their breath. He told Dr. Crabblesnitch the bare minimum of what happened: he and Larry Romano had gotten into a fight over Lola Lombardi and suddenly, the other boy had fallen over. Apparently, the old fool had a soft spot for love triangles between troubled teenagers, so Johnny got off easy. He would, however, be very closely scrutinized until the reason for the other student's sudden comatose were to be found.

Come Tuesday, and Peter Kowalski, the head boy, informed Johnny that he was off the hook. The principal had been told that Larry had regained consciousness sometime during the night and that neither he or Lola were under suspect, although both boys were expected to serve detention for fighting. The real, honest-to-god reason was, however, that this kind of stuff was bad publicity. The residents of the town were negative enough towards the academy without rumors about teenage mutant esper greasers being spread around.

In the afternoon, Johnny was finally due to visit his friend.

When Larry was allowed to have visitors apart from family members, it had been many boring hours. Ever since his mother and sister had come to check up on him and preach to him until he had felt like strangling himself with the tubes he had been tapped into, he had been alone and bored. In the absence of a cigarette, he bit on and played around with a toothpick while staring at the ceiling.

"Mister Romano, you have a visitor", an unenthusiastic nurse said from the open door and ushered a very familiar face indoors.

"Hey Peanut. Glad to see you're okay", Johnny harrumphed awkwardly as the nurse left, laying one more sideward glance at the youngster's butt like the perverted old hag she was.

"Hey Johnny", Larry greeted plainly.

"Where are the guys?" he asked.

Johnny looked around him, nervously.

"Uhm... I wanted to come here by myself first. To, y'know, say I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Peanut. I'm really, really sorry."

He inhaled agonizingly before continuing.

"My anger got the best of me again', it's the last time I promise", he blurted out, trying hard to actually look at the bed-ridden young man. His best friend.

"Right", Larry said, but not meanly. This is how he always accepted his apology.

"You were right all along. It was Lola. When you were taken away, she... She panicked and fessed up. Said it was supposed to be just a prank but somethin' went wrong", Johnny explained.

"Of course she did", Larry said, his amusement and annoyance towards Lola's antics lost to Johnny's ears.

A year ago he would've been angry at Johnny for still being surprised when she pulled of stunts like this, but Larry found his emotional reserves extinguished. He had simply ran out of damns to give. So, he didn't even scold his friend.

"She's got a lot to make up for", Johnny said bitterly.

Of course, no matter what she ever did, she made out of it with a slap on her wrists. And then she'd cry and cry until Johnny mellowed up and gave her leeway again.

"So, how's the hospital been for ya?"

Larry snorted.

"These guys have no idea what they're doin'. I woulda been up 'n' about just fine yesterday if they hadn't done some kinda mistake that they don't wanna talk about. I think imma shit a scalpel or somethin' tomorrow. And they didn't even operate on me", he said cynically.

Johnny's shoulders slumped.

"I'm so sorry man", he murmured, feeling guilty.

"Fuhgettabout it."

"Oh yeah. Um... What didja say to them? About what happened? … Did they even ask?" Johnny carefully inquired.

"Yeah... I mean, the cocktail that knocked me out was a pretty grand mix, apparently. Not that the cops were interested, but the docs had to tell them to come over anyways, to ask me some questions."

"And...?"

"Told 'em some bullshit about some guy who got friendly with Lola at the bar and offered her a soda. I said I switched drinks with her just in case and got drugged. Gave the cops a really vague description of our imaginary friend and they just gave me a warning about hangin' in bars. That's about it."

Johnny sighed, very relieved. Who was he most relieved for, though; Larry, himself, or Lola? Larry wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"Anyway, I guess we oughta have a welcome back party when you're outta this dump. I know Hopkins and the head boy will probably not approve, but how about we have some fun with the preppies, for old times' sake?" Johnny suggested, smirking at his friend.

Larry didn't smile back at him. Johnny's gesture of friendship was met with eyes full of dull disinterest.

"I ain't a greaser no more", he reminded.

Johnny looked at him in disbelief.

"Hey, c'mon man. We're cool, right? This ain't gonna happen again, I swear. I'll make sure Lola plays nice too", he said, laughing nervously.

"No, Johnny. I meant what I said at the Hole. Every single word, for serious."

"But that's... You can't expect me to...", Johnny stuttered, trying to avoid a certain sentence he remembered hearing.

It would've been interesting, but Larry decided not to go there. They both knew that he'd choose Lola every time, but it was too cruel to make Johnny to say it and too masochistic of Larry to make himself hear it.

"Yeah, I know Johnny. I know. It's okay, really. I wanna step down."

Johnny let out a noise of frustration as he sat down on a chair that had been left next to Larry's bed by his sister.

"It's me, right? I majorly screwed this up somehow", he whined.

Ingenious, Johnny, simply ingenious of you to realize that.

"It was a lot of things, Johnny, don't worry about it", Larry assured.

"Fuck... I didn't want this, Peanut. Believe me when I say that! I just want us to be pals again!"

When he looked at Larry pleadingly, the ex-greaser wondered if he should tell him things, maybe even his darkest secrets. That could change his mind.

Nah.

Ever so stoically, Larry looked at his friend with his dark, soulful eyes and sighed.

"During the past few months, bein' your friend has meant bein' Lola's friend more than anythin'. I'm sorry Johnny, but I don't want that anymore", he explained. He winced at himself for sounding like he was a girl breaking up with a boyfriend.

"Oy, c'mon. I'm sure she don't mean to, I mean Lola ain't that bad. She says and does things, but she just don't think sometimes and...", Johnny started, his words turning into incomprehensible mumbling as he ran out of excuses.

This was one of those moments when Larry just felt like grabbing Johnny's shoulders, give him a good shake, and just _scream _at him for being so dense. But, the reserved young man had learned to be patient with him, even if it was sometimes hard.

"Johnny. You may not wanna admit it, but I know Lola better than you. I made it my business to know. Whatever she does or says, she knows exactly what it means. She's a smart chick if I ever knew one", he said.

Johnny opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. Larry took that as a sign to go on.

"Lola's the one who called off her end of our agreement. She went outta line. She wouldna done it if she hadn't wanted. That's my cue to leave", he continued.

The two were quiet for a moment. Sadness and pain hung in the air like heavy, oppressing rain clouds. At the same time, Larry was relieved that his feelings were out.

"So this is really how it's gonna end", Johnny said with a strained voice.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Johnny. I really am", Larry apologized with a soothing tone, like a parent to a kid whose dog had to be put down. He gave his old best friend a slight sad smile to soften the blow.

The leather-clad leader of the greaser clique let out a deep, pained sigh as he stood up and started walking towards the door. When he was about to step out, he halted.

"Goodbye, Larry", he said without turning.

"Goodbye Johnny", Larry responded.

Johnny Vincent left the hospital room, leaving his old best friend to listen to nothing but his own breaths and the quiet blips and whirrs from the sophisticated machinery around him. As Larry closed his eyes and pressed his head against his pillow, he exhaled shakily, realizing that his breathing had been very restricted until just a moment ago. He felt like he had just ripped off a part of himself with his own hands. Figures that when he finally gets a break from his self-inflicted perpetual numbness, it has to be something like this.

The ex-greaser didn't know it, but while he contemplated upon his loss, bold steps were heard in the hallway outside as another visitor was closing in on his room. Then, the door opened and revealed a familiar figure.

"Why hello, _Peanut"_, said a soft, feminine voice.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I wish I could draw. I would so draw the teenage mutant esper greasers. Anyway, I'm afraid I might have downplayed Johnny's intelligence a bit too much in this chapter (then again, I really do think he's rather dumb). Will probably compensate later.


	6. Alpha Female

**Author's Notes: **So yeah, several chapters later we finally have some interaction between Peanut and Lola again.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Alpha Female**

Larry had been cautious about Lola Lombardi for a long time, but he had never really been afraid of her. Now was probably a good time to start, though.

"Why hello, _Peanut._"

Lola leaned against the frame, looking hungrily at the bedridden boy.

"I'm just Larry now", corrected the boy.

The girl smirked and walked to the hospital bed, hips swaying playfully. Then she sat on the very chair that Johnny had rested on, crossing her legs.

"Can I have a smoke?" she asked innocently as she dug out a cigarette and a lighter. It was prohibited, of course, but did anyone care? This was Bullworth, after all.

"Sure. If you give me one", Larry stated matter-of-factly. It made Lola giggle and shake her head, but she obliged. She leaned over to gently put one cigarette between the young man's lips and lit it, then she took one for herself.

The two took their first drags in silence.

"So. Did you really think Johnny would pick you, over me?" the girl asked as if it were the funniest thing she had ever heard.

Larry didn't even have to contemplate on that.

"No."

"Oh? Then what's with what you said at the Hole?" she inquired and blew smoke straight at Larry's face.

"I just wanted to say somethin' cool for once", Larry then said plainly and returned the favor. Unlike Norton, Johnny, and Vance, Larry had never really had a way with words. He wasn't that great at thinking on his feet and usually felt a bit left out when people indulged in shooting clever quips at each other.

Lola pursed her lips for a moment and seemed to be indecisive about something.

"I wonder. In this kind of situation, should I talk to you like a man, or a woman trying to step onto my turf?" she pondered.

Larry wasn't sure if that was supposed to be an actual insult. Probably not. Considering their roles in this strange, strange play, it was actually a rather valid question.

"Dunno. Take your pick."

Lola snickered.

"Well, anyway. I still got Johnny, and you're outta the clique, apparently. How are you feeling?"

Larry sniffled and assessed his situation.

"I don' think I feel anythin'."

The numb feeling had automatically returned since Lola was close. It was his mean of survival around the turmoil she caused. Lola seemed disappointed and turned her attention to the dreary hospital room instead: it was a depressing place. Larry observed as her mask of a temptress melted and revealed her cold indifference.

"It's typical of you, innit. You could have had any guy, but you just have to have this one. Among others."

Lola rolled her eyes.

"Gotta milk this world for what it's worth", she said with a low voice, unapologetically.

Larry had always wondered if there was a fancy scientific word for people like Lola. People who preyed on people, with no remorse. People who made you feel like you were looking into a two-way mirror without knowing how many people were looking at you from the other side.

"I never thought I'd wanna know this, but... How do you act when it's just you 'n' Johnny?" Larry asked, genuinely curious.

Lola hemmed and blew smoke from her nose.

"That's the best thing about Johnny actually... I don't really have to act that much around him. It's all in his head: he always assumes the best about me, as you've probably noticed", she said and sucked on her brilliantly red lower lip.

"He's a terrible judge of character, isn't he? I mean, look how I've got him dancin' on the top of my palm. I don't even have to raise a finger to make him feel happy, angry, or sad. When he gets too boring, I can either give or deny the kind of sex he wants. Or cheat on him, _as we both know._"

It was unfortunate, really. In a world where good looks and achievements seemed to be everything, the one girl who didn't care much for them was a mental case. Lola had always been all about emotive guys: her libido was huge, but she wasn't all that picky about the physical side – if it had a dick, she could at the very least consider sexing it up. It was the emotional side that she was most dependent on. Desire, disgust, despair, conflict, anger, and pain were her fuel. Of course, money was a factor too when she was running out of it.

"Yep. Sounds like the Lola I know", Larry snorted.

When he and Lola had become friends of sort, she had started showing her real colors more often. She was strange, and unlike many strange people in Bullworth, she was fully aware of it. She had learned the hierarchy of strangeness and had learned which things you should avoid showing other people. She could be deceivingly normal, if she needed to be: she could switch into a different role on the fly like it was nothing.

One thing that was off about her was that the concept of "missing" other people was incomprehensible to her. Social interaction was one of the very few things she enjoyed, but the feeling of attachment was foreign to her. Threatening her with exclusion was like threatening to take a radio away from a deaf person. She also possessed a narrow range of different feelings: most noticeably she didn't have much empathy. She could tell when other people were suffering, but oftentimes she simply didn't know why she was supposed to care.

Lola knew that she was probably considered a bad person by many. But she thought that since she had been forced to learn so many useless things and to conform to ridiculous social norms, she was "even" with the world around her. Therefore, she usually strove to please only the bare minimum amount of people to get what she needed or wanted. In a way, that was almost admirable to Larry.

The greaser has-been, lost in thought while savoring his cancerous smoke, didn't realize that Lola was observing him. The young man lay on the hospital bed calmly, almost serenely all the while she bombed him with a disapproving look that was begging to be noticed.

"That's just the thing I hate about you", she suddenly said, emphasizing her words with a swing of her hand while holding her cigarette.

The ex-greaser perked and turned his attention to her.

"You are a very passionate guy, Larry. Deliciously passionate. I've seen you when you're with Johnny, following him around like a puppy. Sometimes you're like you're going to burst. But you never do, not anymore", she blurted out.

"I hate you", she added haphazardly before she took another drag.

Larry frowned as he looked at the greaser queen. That kind of careless, half-hearted stab at him was rare and she looked a bit strained. Tired, even.

"So, is that what this was all about, then? Getting a reaction out of me?" he asked.

"Yeah, mostly", she admitted, sounding innocent.

"I'm disappointed at myself. I not only messed up with the dose, I thought you'd be easier to crack. But, at least Johnny's gonna be on the edge for a while."

The ex-greaser inhaled very deep and closed his eyes. He paused before letting himself breathe out.

"I shoulda known", he said quietly. He had been witness to her "plans" so many times before, so why had he ruled out the possibility that he'd be the target of one?

Lola's face mellowed out a bit as she observed the boy's frustration, as little of it she could see bubbling to the surface as she did.

"You know what, Larry? You have your good points, too. Like the way you don't try to make me feel 'guilty' or call me a 'bad person' like it meant something", she said softly.

"That's because I know that you don't feel guilt", the boy stated flatly.

Lola grinned, tugging her temptress act up, like applying makeup. She took her cigarette and stumped it against Larry's empty plate that the nurses had left on the table next to his bed. Then she picked up Larry's very short cigarette from his fingers and did the same for it before standing up.

"Well, I better go. Johnny's angry at me now, but soon he needs someone to _comfort_ him now that he's lost his poor little friend. Ciao", she cooed huskily as she walked to and through the door.

Larry was left alone, again. He took deep, calming breaths and swallowed. He felt relieved that he was out of the circle of abuse, but he was inclined to feel horrible for leaving Johnny, his best friend, his boss, his brother, and his second crush, in it. But, at the same time he suspected that, unlike he himself, Johnny actually enjoyed it and didn't want to leave it behind. Just like Lola was the kind of woman she was, Johnny was that kind of guy.

The young man felt something swelling inside him and soon, amongst the soulless bleeping machines, he wept.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Um. Yeah. My version of Lola is sort of like a genderswapped version of Gary. I just thought that could be interesting.


	7. Bottom Feeder

**Author's Notes: **So, uh, I think I heard Peanut going on about him wasting some people in baseball at some point, so I guess he has a hobby other than thinking about Lola or Johnny. Y'know what, I wish the other greasers showed some support for Hal's cheese burger fight club idea, it's not like they ever seem to do anything else than think about bikes, their hair, or relationship problems. Yes, I tried to stalk them around for the sake of this fic and it was boring.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Bottom Feeder**

Larry Romano hadn't died, but he had become a ghost. Having made enemies in the past and not having powerful allies anymore, he had no other option than to lay as low as possible. He felt like some sort of primitive sea creature, not having any control beyond being able to pathetically twitch and squirm against the current so he wouldn't drift into some predator's gaping mouth. His only saving grace was that there were some people who could offer an illusion of safety in exchange for working for them like an animal. Jimmy Hopkins, for example. Even though Larry had had a very good excuse, the need to thank him for calling the ambulance, for approaching him, it had been excruciatingly difficult and embarrassing to ask him for help.

Help he had received. But not for cheap. Playing nerd bodyguard, distracting teachers and other authorities, and fixing other people's stuff while Jimmy had fun and reaped the benefits wasn't cheap at all. And all he really got from that was an official head boy-certified transfer into a room with no greasers. Until the move, he simply slept in Lucky's bed, which was at the very least not in the same room as Johnny's.

Of course, the separation from the greaser clique wouldn't have needed to be so thorough. But, Larry had decided that if he was going to do it, he would do it all the way. He did wonder if the rest of the greasers, especially Norton who probably was now left with the burden of taking care of the royal pair, felt betrayed or neglected, but he figured that it shouldn't be bad to think of himself first in a while. He really needed a break from anything related to Johnny and Lola, even if it meant that he had to waste his presence into nothing.

And really, the fainter he could make his existence, the better. Because Larry knew that _he_ was watching. Or rather, _they._ _They_ were out there, observing, plotting, and probably enjoying the fact that Larry knew they were coming for him, but not _when_ or _where._ Larry felt relatively safe during and between classes since there was only so much you could do between breaks, but the rest of the day was what a wide open field was to Bambi's mother. Sure, if _they_ attacked and his old gang saw it, they'd come to his aid, probably, but Larry did NOT want that.

So, Larry considered himself a dead man walking. He tried to keep a low profile in order to make himself an unappealing target. Sadly, he had become a sight to behold just for the things he no longer was: people gave him sideward glances as they saw him, walking down the school halls in a simple school attire without his leather jacket. He could practically feel the rumors moving around him as if the school halls were the bowels of some kind of giant gossip beast. In retaliation to that, the young man rejected even the few non-hostile attempts to communicate with him. Most recently, he had rudely deterred the young Melody Adams as she had tried to carefully initiate a conversation with him, which must have taken guts from her, considering the age difference. He wondered if he would feel bad about it after his bout of broodiness but, still being a teenager, all he could really concentrate on was how unwell he was feeling then and there.

A more practical part of Larry's brain, a part that wasn't used to not being listened to and was severely outraged by its loss of status, was nagging at him though. He was out of the clique, so now what? Would he lurk around the school like a rat for the rest of his senior year? Was he going to stop playing in baseball matches because Lucky and Lefty played there too? What would he do about his hair now that he didn't feel like slicking it behind his head? In its limp state, it was annoyingly long: long enough to bother him but just short enough so he couldn't sweep it behind his ears or anything. It also made him look dorky.

Too many questions, no answers.

* * *

Larry inhaled sharply as he was suddenly called back to Earth by a passing thought. Where was everybody? Having been deep in thought for so long, he hadn't even noticed the absence of Constantinos Brakus, who spent a lot of his time whining about some random thing. Larry stood up from his bed and looked up: Ivan Alexander, who had the top bunk to his bottom and spent a lot of time there napping while pretending to listen to Constantinos, was also missing. Ditto for Lance Jackson from the other bunk bed.

Huh. Not that there was anything bad about them being gone, quite the opposite, but it was rather strange of all of them to be gone when it was 11:00 in the evening. Usually there'd be at least one of them getting ready for bed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Startled, Larry jerked as he turned around. He was about to raise his voice to ask who it was, but then it got him thinking... Should he just ignore it? As he hesitated, another knock sounded from the creaky piece of wood that was scribbled full of inane messages and drawings. This time, the sound carried an edge and pace of impatience.

Okay, he'd wait one more series of knocks to see if they went away and then open the door if they didn't leave. So he waited. And lo, did the sounds did come back – only this time, they didn't seem to end at all. The medley of different types of knocks echoed through the room and it was just too annoying to ignore.

"Alright, alright. Jeez", Larry huffed and stomped to the doorway.

When the frustrated boy opened the door and was ready to blow up at the cause of this noise, he was greeted by a person significantly taller than him, hunched in a pose that signaled extreme danger.

"Punch delivery!" Bif Taylor gleefully greeted as his much feared left uppercut met Larry's jaw. A white flash started from the corner of his eyes and suddenly he was out like a light.

Boy, his head sure was going to places lately.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Nope, I'm not going to let Peanut catch a break just yet.


	8. Team Spirit

**Author's Notes: **This chapter starts a humble tribute *cough ripoff cough* to a certain Swedish movie called Evil (Ondskan). Its climax is in the next one. If you want to do something nice for me, get your hands on that movie and watch it if you haven't already done that. It's on YouTube, if you're desperate. If you like Bully, you're bound to like it: it has pretty much the same premise and same character archetypes but it's handled with both more sophistication and brutality.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Team Spirit**

When Larry more or less came to, he had been carried off somewhere, apparently. His jaw hurt like hell and the insides of his head felt like jelly that hadn't stopped jiggling yet. Around him, he heard agitated male voices bickering about something.

"... And really, _'punch delivery'_? For heaven's sake Bif, that was awfully tasteless and you know it", said a somehow bubbly, flamboyant voice with a bad English accent.

"Well, I thought it was appropriate! I mean, Spencer Shipping and all that. Besides, the prefect didn't notice us, so I don't see any problem here", defended a man with an unashamedly American way of speaking.

Oh great, those were probably Gord Vendome and Bif Taylor. This was it then, _they _had come for Larry.

"Just shut your traps, both of you! Gord, stop whining like an indecent street urchin and Bif, he's right: have some dignity and think before you talk, you fool! Good lord, no _delivery man_ gets to socialize with me, much less live in my house!"

That vicious, snobby voice... Derby Harrington, no doubt about it.

"S-Sorry Derby. It won't happen again", Bif apologized, sounding a bit hurt by Derby's scolding.

"Ah, and Tad, our little guest seems to have awakened. Get on with this plan of yours", the preppie clique leader announced nonchalantly.

"With pleasure. Bif, if you would be so kind as to take a bullet for the team and _touch_ that wretched thing to get it to face us, I'd be most grateful", said another faux English accent.

Larry was grabbed by two unsteady hands and turned around gingerly on his other side as he laid on a cold floor. Bif probably wasn't being gentle because of concern for Larry, but for his attire. The prissy bastards. They were gathered around him, looking down on him in amusement as he was still cooperating from the loss of his consciousness.

"Thank you, Bif old boy. But oh dear me, it seems that you were right Gord! That disgusting substance the greasers have in their hair really _is _something they have to actually apply themselves. I'm both relieved and disgusted", said Tad Williams with an exaggeratedly delighted tone. The other preppies chuckled at him lightly.

"Fuck... You...", Larry mumbled faintly and tried to blow away the strands of hair that were blocking his sight.

"Feisty, aren't we? Well, hopefully that trait serves you well when you clean up our personnel's shoes", Tad said with a smirk and suddenly extended his hand in front of him to peer at his watch.

"Hmm. I think we'll give you... One hour. Yes, one hour should do it. Clean them up nicely before we come back and you'll be let to go do whatever a stray mongrel like you likes to do", he announced.

"That's it, Tad?" Bif asked, baffled.

"I, too, thought that this would be something more interesting", Gord joined in with an unimpressed voice.

"Don't you worry chaps, this will get very intriguing indeed if this dirty peasant doesn't manage to get his task done in time", Tad assured meanly.

"Now then, let's toss this tosser in with the shoes, shall we?" he said and stepped towards Larry while pulling up his sleeves.

The preppies lifted the ex-greaser up from his legs and arms and started to heave him somewhere. With a swing, they really did toss him: he landed in a very small, poorly lit space, right on top of a pile of dirty, muddy shoes.

"Good luck, Peanut my old _friend_", Tad said with a chuckle as he closed the door.

When Larry grunted and sat up, he looked around him. There was a brush, a rag, some kinds of ointments presumably for treating leather, and loads of dirty shoes. Tad had probably told his fellow trust fund babies to bring their gardeners' footwear. Whatever the case, there was no way Larry could ever clean up this many shoes in one hour. Neither was he even thinking of actually doing that even if it were doable and if his life depended on it.

_Bring it on_, he thought.

* * *

As time passed Larry got more and more bored and tired. He just sat, and waited. He would have smoked a cigarette, but he found that the preppies had taken his lighter and smokes away, which made him all the more annoyed. What's more, Larry's thoughts kept returning to the time when he had been stuck in Spencer Shipping warehouse.

"Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_", hissed Larry Romano, 15, very soon 16 years of age.

He certainly was in a pickle. After smashing probably several hundreds or even thousands of dollars worth of luxurious items and spraying a big nice hello in the window of the office, the youngster was in very, very serious trouble if he couldn't get out soon. As the boy had squeezed between a large container and a wall to hide from the workers, something had knocked him to the ground. When he had come to, he had been greeted by the face of a bronze horse statue, staring at him with its vacant eyes.

He had been lucky not to have been crushed to death. He had probably been saved by the container: when the statue had toppled over, it had probably scraped against its sides and lost some momentum when it pushed it further away from the wall. Now the statue laid on top of Larry, its legs bent and broken by the impact of its fall and the statue's stand crushing the young man's left leg. If the stumps of it limbs also gave out, the statue's chest would also be resting against Larry's torso, which could make it very hard for him to breathe.

It was already hard to breathe, though. He couldn't see anything, but he heard the workers and policemen returning from their futile chase. While Larry was very, very tempted to raise his voice and yell for help, he was absolutely terrified: what would happen to him if they found him? The police would take him away, then... He'd be the laughing stock of the school, once again a target of his stepfather's cold scrutiny, and he'd have to compensate for the damages to none other than Tad Spencer's family. Johnny and Lola would laugh at the memory of him while his brain rotted away in juvenile hall.

He then decided: he'd rather _die_. He laid under the colossal waste of metal and took agonizingly short breaths, only making his breathing more shallow and noisy as he tried to control it. He was seriously going to start hyperventilating soon and someone was bound to hear it. His eyes felt strained and cheeks scorching hot as tears started to push through his ducts.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. In his hysterical state, Larry hardly heard it, but the workers and the police did. Some of them felt reluctant to leave the warehouse, but their curiosity and stupidity got the best of them and they all went outside through the main door. Then, one of the side entrances opened, and hasty steps spread around the warehouse.

"Larry? You here?" Hal's voice echoed through the warehouse while the loud bangs continued outdoors.

Larry tried to desperately raise his voice, but all that came out was a pathetic whine. Hal didn't hear it.

"I know what'll get to him if he's really here", said another voice.

Larry perked up and his frantic breathing came to a halt for a moment. Johnny, the annoying, hotheaded thorn in his flesh since his first year at Bullworth Academy, had come to get him.

"Ahem... PEANUT! WHERE YOU AT?"

Just for that stupid, stupid nickname, a part of Larry's brain felt like not answering him. Thankfully, his survival instincts won.

"I'm... I'M HERE!"

The search party scrambled and everyone scurried to where Larry was.

"Shit... We're gonna have to be pretty quick, the cops will be back any minute!" said Debbie, a long since graduated greaser.

"Let's do it, then. I ain't leavin' no greaser behind", Johnny growled, as if to challenge the mauled horse statue.

It took the whole group's combined effort, but they managed to pry their friend from the underside of the metal equine. Too shaken and dazed to even utter a thank-you, Larry just hung on to Debbie and Johnny as they started taking him out the same way they had came from. Throughout the trip to safety, Johnny kept saying meaningless, but reassuring things to him. "You're gonna be okay, shorty." "C'mon, it's only a few blocks." "Only a bit further, walk tall now, Peanut." The relief blew over him and he really did feel that everything was going to be okay from then on.

Larry "Peanut" Romano, now 17 years of age, smiled faintly at his memory. Hal, a supporter of his back then, had snapped at Johnny for using the dorky nickname even in such a dire situation.

"He can call me whatever he wants", Larry had then managed to say, and the rest of the agonizing walk he had remained silent. It was deeply infuriating to him that now, even the lowest of the low were misusing that name.

"It's time, Peanut", an arrogant voice said from the door to the small, dingy room with loads of filthy shoes, untouched by Larry's hands.


	9. Ondska i sin renaste form

**Authore's Notes: **I don't think the M rating is in order yet, but this chapter describes bullying that you may find disturbing if you are squeamish. This chapter ends my tribute to the movie _Evil_ (Ondskan). Despite its flaws, the movie had a lot of good things going for it. Kinda like Bully.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Ondska i sin renaste form**

(Evil in its purest form)**  
**

Larry could hold a long grudge for someone who wasn't Johnny, but Tad Spencer really was something else. Whenever the two had a close encounter, the usually quite relaxed, even jolly preppie tensed and seemed to inhabit all the cold hatred in the world. When he had still been a greaser, Larry had always gotten a sense of accomplishment from seeing that, but now it wasn't as welcome a sight.

The preppies had dragged him out of the dingy room where he had spent the last hour and found out that the place had been inside the shed of Harrington house, the one where they usually kept the lawn mower. Then, they had gagged him with a knotted kerchief that vaguely smelled of perfume and tied him down, his limbs held in place by padded restraint cuffs that were tied to four metal rods protruding from the ground. Larry's body was mostly supported by the ground, but he was tied just tightly enough so he couldn't move.

The preppies seemed ominously nervous as they stood around him, quietly. They seemed a bit confused, peering at each other quizzically. They seemed to gesture each other to take a good look at Tad: he was content creeping Larry out by staring right into or right through his victim's eyes and it seemed that the ex-greaser wasn't the only one who was creeped out.

Derby Harrington stood a bit further from Larry, looking uninterested. Uncharacteristically of him, he seemed to have voluntarily sunk into the background while Tad pulled the strings. There must've been a reason for that, but it eluded the tied up young man who was feeling increasingly uncomfortable splayed across the cold, damp lawn.

Bif and Parker were missing, so presumably they were waiting for them. Pinky wasn't around either, but Larry assumed that she wasn't supposed to. They usually kept her in the dark when it came to their dirtier business.

Suddenly, something came over Larry and blocked his sight while snorting and sniffing noisily.

"Chester! Don't touch him, who knows where he's been!" Chad scolded as he pulled his stout dog away from the ex-greaser who was trying to move his head away from the slobbering animal. The other preppies chuckled at them lightly, unwinding a bit.

Some minutes passed and then, finally, Parker and Bif came from the preppies' stronghold. As the two were greeted by impatient but half-hearted insults, Larry turned his head to the side to see them. They were carrying four buckets, two of which were steaming in the cool night. What was in them, feces? Well, Larry had always thought that preps were full of shit, but wow...

Tad cocked his brow and walked up to the buckets to inspect them. Then, he dipped his fingers to each one. Okay, whatever was in them probably wasn't crap after all. The preppie seemed to approve of the contents and gestured Bif and Parker to follow him to Larry. The tied up youth tried to move his head higher to see what was in the buckets, but no avail. The preppies were snickering at his nervousness.

"Alright then gentlemen. And dog. Time to bathe this subhuman waste!" Tad said with a snarl and grabbed one of the buckets. Then he threw its contents at Larry.

… It was just water. _Hot_ water. The moment Larry's skin came into contact with it, his entire body tensed. When it splashed all over the boy's skin, he tried to scream, but the improvised gag muffled it.

"Ha ha, too hot for your liking, Romano?" Tad sneered. The preps laughed at Larry as his eyes screwed shut and he furiously shook his head side to side.

"Oh? More of that, then!" Tad said maniacally, his voice cracking a bit in the middle of the sentence. He took another steaming bucket and upturned it above the trapped, struggling boy.

Another wave of searing pain took over him and made him bite his teeth together as far as his gag let him. He tried to concentrate on getting away from the heat while the steam crept from his skin into the cold night. He vaguely remembered the refreshing feeling when you walk to the cold section of a store during summer.

"Don't you dare block it out, Peanut old boy! Next bucket!" Tad ordered, his voice revealing that he was quite exhilarated.

Then, just when he thought things were tolerably cooled down, he was doused with water that was just as cold as the previous had been hot and, for a moment, though, his body seemed to be confused whether it was hot or cold. Nevertheless, it was horrible. Larry let out another muffled shout as he tried to cope.

"Ha ha ha... Well, he should be a clean enough right about now. No need for the last bucket, right?" Gord tittered, his laugh seeming a bit forced.

"Yeah, so um, is he really okay?" Parker asked, sharing the same, slightly uneasy tone.

"He should be, if he's even one fraction the man that I am. The water was hot, but not enough to burn", Tad chuckled. He then inhaled deep and looked somewhere into the distance, looking like he had a feeling of nostalgia.

"Well then, we'll leave him to you, like I promised. Just one thing though", Derby started with a strict voice, "The moment he starts showing anything resembling hypothermia, you let him off."

The blond clique leader was dead serious as he stared at Tad with his cold eyes and the meaning of it was very clear to both. He would not tolerate anything that could possibly be harmful to his family's name or his clique.

"Don't worry, Derby. There's already a messenger on the way and I will personally keep him company until the next phase", Tad promised with a reassuring tone.

The other preppies left, leaving a much amused Tad Spencer with the thoroughly soaked, shivering ex-greaser. As Derby walked away, he gave the remaining preppie and the fourth, unused bucket a doubtful glare over his shoulder.

"Well then", Tad started as his leader vanished from his sight, "was it all worth it, Peanut?"

Larry, of course, couldn't have answered him even if he had wanted to. He was not only gagged, but he was desperately trying to cope with the cold.

"You just have no idea, do you. What kind of a thrashing my father gave me. I mean, it was already bad that you decided to make him cranky by wreaking havoc at the warehouse, you just _had _to leave a nice little message", the preppie said bitterly as he looked at his victim, who, to him, seemed like he wasn't listening.

"'Tad sucks cock', you wrote", he growled with an utterly disgusted face and picked up the last bucket of water.

"You just have no idea. _No_ idea what I had to go through to convince him that I don't", he said as he dumped the remaining ice cold water on Larry. The already freezing boy twitched and clenched his fists.

"What did I ever do to you, anyway? I bet I didn't do anything in particular, you just decided to come after me because I'm rich. Can't let anyone have anything nice, can you", the preppie hissed and tried to control his breathing, which had picked up some speed. He was getting worked up.

Suddenly, he perked up and turned his head. A look of horror spread across his face as he heard a low voice mumbling about something that vaguely sounded like "rash" and "down there". Immediately, the boy put down the empty bucket and dashed to the shed. It was at an angle that Larry couldn't see, but he heard Tad open the door and pick up something that made a loud shuffling noise. Then, his eyesight was blocked by what seemed to be a green tarpaulin.

Then Larry realized – Tad was going to _leave _him. He started to make as much noise as possible, which wasn't much in his state. It did resonate to his ears, which blocked any sounds in his surroundings, so he shouted without having any idea if there actually was someone nearby or not. He struggled against his restraints and screamed into his tight gag, but nobody seemed to come.

When he ran out of steam, he was left in the dark fall night, under a tarpaulin. It didn't provide any kind of protection from the cold as the boy lay in the soaked ground, his clothes stuck to his cooled down skin. And time, it went by so slowly it was like torture. Larry had no track of it, but it felt like forever. His shudders had turned into violent trembling and he was starting to lose the feel of his limbs. Only two things went through his mind: how cold it was and the heartrending fear that nobody would come back to let him loose.

Not being able to hang onto anything positive, he started to wonder what the world would be like after his death. Not any different, he supposed. In fact, he starter to think that maybe the world would be a better place without him. From there, it wasn't much of a leap to start wishing that he hadn't ever born. All of the parts of his brain that could've told him that he was being childish and pessimistic were under just as much stress as the rest of them, so no damns were given.

As more time passed, Larry started to feel somehow light-headed. When he heard a human voice, he could hardly even comprehend what it implied: that he could be saved. At first, there was just one voice, but soon there was a whole jumble of agitated voices around him. Then, someone pulled the tarpaulin off him.

"Holy shit", a rather familiar, deep voice said.


	10. Liabilities

**Chapter 10: Liabilities**

It had been a very typical Friday night for Norton Williams. Now, as Saturday officially had crept upon him and the rest of the greasers, he was tired and bored. It didn't sit well with his image, but the tall black bruiser was actually a teetotaler and every time his clique had any money to spare for booze, he simply watched over his friends and socialized with the girls they called over. Right now, Norton couldn't even really do that, either, because the girl he had spent the night with was snoozing against his shoulder on one of the broken beds in the abandoned tenements.

It was a shame though. She looked passable and she had seemed like a pretty sweet chick prior to passing out, but Norton wasn't sure what her name was and he hadn't asked where she lived. All he knew was that she went to school in a different town. Oh well.

Norton looked around. Vance, Lefty, Hal, Vance's friend or acquaintance, and their girls were sitting around on old furniture and debris that they had dragged in a circle in the middle of the room. Vance knew surprisingly many people around Bullworth and most of the time that was an asset to the clique – he always seemed to have friend of a friend who knew something interesting or had something they needed. This time, he had hooked the greasers up with some girls, although they had refused to come to the ever so notorious tenements without their bodyguard.

The group was done messing around and raising a ruckus and was now having an enthusiastic dirty conversation about the rumored past jobs of Miss Danvers. Lucky had gone to escort his girlfriend home, Ricky was probably getting some action with his date, and Johnny was probably getting the same with Lola. Norton thought about the options he had and thought that he should probably tuck his girl in and call dibs on one of the more decent and not hazardous beds around their run-down hideout.

He hadn't noticed it, nobody did until the intruder was standing right at the door to the room, but they had a visitor. Unsure, overly careful steps had brought Constantinos Brakus to the last place in Bullworth he wanted to be in and he was now struggling to raise his voice to get the attention of the occupied greasers and their company.

"What the- What's this skeletal wimp doin' here?" Hal asked, slurring slightly, when he laid eyes on the nervous non-clique student.

"Ahem... Um... There's...", he stammered as he was suddenly the target of everyone's mean-spirited attention. He felt like shriveling up and dying right then and there.

"I, uhh, I have a message to Johnny Vincent!" he managed to blurt out, his voice cracking. He shifted his weight in discomfort and hid his hands behind his back.

"Johnny's got no time for no-name twerps. Spit it out, we'll relay the message to him. _If_ we feel like it", Norton said gruffly while standing up, letting the passed out girl slump on the mattress.

"Well, hum. The preppies. They said they have a present for you. At the Harrington house", Constantinos said while he lowered his head in submission. Everyone looked at him doubtfully.

"Oh, and, they said that you should get there ASAP", he added shakily.

Suspicion crept to Norton's mind as he walked to Constantinos, staring straight into his eyes as he did so.

"Is this about Peanut?" he asked with a dark, threatening tone of voice and grabbed the scrawny boy's collar.

"Y-yes!" Constantinos squeaked. Norton's grip tightened.

"Hey hey _hey_! I- I'm just a victim! They said they'd beat me up if I didn't cooperate!" the panicked youth hollered. Well, they had offered him some money too, but mentioning that would make him less sympathetic, he reckoned.

Norton released him, pushing him back violently so he almost fell, and then turned to his fellow greasers.

"Alright, who's sober enough to keep up with me on a bike?" he asked.

* * *

It had been pretty bad. Norton had judged only two of the other greasers to be sufficiently able: Vance and Ricky. The latter had to be interrupted while putting on the moves on his girl, so he was supremely frustrated and had attempted to oppose Norton. Norton Williams was, however, very scary when he was serious.

When he had mobilized the rest to get their clique leader up and out, they had at first demanded that they should get Johnny first and go as one group. Norton had decided against it and had accepted no buts: it was possible that they were right, that this could embarrass Johnny in front of the preppies, not to mention heavily piss him off, but the second-in-command of the greasers had a very bad feeling. Norton had seen Johnny drink some, and when he started, it was hard to make him stop. A drunk Johnny Vincent and swaggering preppies would have been a very bad combination now that Hopkins and the head boy and his prefects had a strict no-clique-war policy.

So, as things were now, the rest of the clique were looking for Johnny, who surprisingly had slipped away from the tenements, and Norton's gang was just arriving at the school's gates. They pedaled to the auto shop area and left their bikes there, then they started running towards the Harrington house. As they approached the classy, secluded dormitory, they saw someone standing against the stone walls surrounding the walkway there – they started running for the house immediately after noticing the greasers. Probably another non-clique student that preppies had threatened into serving them. The poor bastards got a lot of that from all the cliques.

"Guys, follow me a bit further behind", Norton said quietly.

He walked up the stairs to the lit walkway to the building to look around while Vance and Ricky let him gain some distance. The black greaser didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he did see a glimpse of a lit window going dark all of a sudden. So the preppies were watching, at the very least. Then he looked to the right and noticed something that wasn't abnormal, but still a bit off. On the lawn where Chad's dog usually resided, there was something that had been covered with a tarpaulin. Was it a trap? He wasn't sure, but he figured that he had to go check it out anyway. He walked up to it, slowly.

"Norton, what the hell are you doin'? Those scumbags are probably waitin' for us inside!" Ricky asked, annoyed.

"Like we could go in there, idiot! There's only three of us!" Vance snapped at him. The two bickered about it for a moment, both speaking over the other.

"Shut the hell up!" Norton yelled as he reached whatever was covered underneath the tarpaulin. Then, he pulled it away.

"Holy shit", he said, his eyes shooting open.

"Guys, gimme a hand, now!" he barked at Ricky and Vance, who ran to him.

"What the hell?" snapped Ricky as he laid his eyes on Larry, soaking wet and splayed across the ground. Vance gasped and seemed very disturbed, rightfully so. Norton was already removing the cuffs that were keeping him tied down, huffing in both anger and deep concern.

"Dude, are you okay?" Ricky asked when he lunged to help him.

"C'mon Pea- err Larry, say somethin'!" Vance pleaded when he, too, joined.

As the three boys untied and ungagged their chilly friend and made him stand against them so they could start taking him to the boys' dorm, Larry's teeth started to chatter uncontrollably. He was trying to say something, but it came out as incomprehensible noises mixed with the sound if his teeth hitting together. But, at least his friends knew that he was still around.

"Ah, I see. So Johnny Vincent didn't show up. Quite a shame, I wanted to see whether he'd be glad for punishing this feller, enraged, or pissing himself in fear of us! I bet on the latter", a loud voice echoed from above as the four youngsters walked away from the Harrington house.

When Norton looked over his shoulder, lo and behold, it was Derby Harrington's smug face peering out of a window. Soon, several windows opened to reveal more preppies, many of them holding eggs in their hands. Norton gave his portion of Larry's weight to the unoccupied Vance and turned to fully face their enemies. While they wouldn't have needed to, Ricky and Vance also turned around while holding Larry between them.

Norton took a glance at Larry, his head hung low and limp, and apologized to him in his mind.

"I'm not sure what kinda shit you're sputterin', Harrington. You expectin' Johnny fuckin' Vincent to come over personally for some kid who turned his back to the gang?" he asked, spreading his arms invitingly for more inane quips to shrug off. Vance and Ricky looked at him, holding their breaths.

"Well I don't blame him! It takes a special kind of imbecile to follow a man who publicly beats up a henchman because he thinks someone actually cares! About him and his wretched rutting bitch, no less!" Derby cackled and threw an egg at Norton, who barely managed to dodge it.

"Shit, run for it!" Norton yelped as a rain of eggs fell on him and his fellow greasers.

The preppies laughed as their enemies ran away as fast as they could while hauling Larry. Derby's laugh, however, was cut short.

"Where the hell is that idiot Tad?" he asked from Gord, seething anger dripping from his words.

"I, I don't know. I thought he was outside", the startled youth stuttered, somewhat hurt at Derby's sudden lash.

The blond clique leader shot one more look at the escaping greasers, now more than halfway to the fountain with the stiff, very obviously unwell Larry on tow. Tad Williams had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** You might have noticed Vance somewhere in there, hanging out with the girls. Bully Wiki is of the opinion that he's the most exclusively gay character among the kissable boys, but I have no idea what that's about. I mean, the dude says "Don't let the chicks see me like this!" when you humiliate him and claims that every girl in school has the hots for him, among other things.


	11. Everyone Learns the Hard Way

**Author's Notes: **I feel more at ease while writing about violence and abuse than about people talking about their emotions. It makes me feel mushy :S

* * *

**Chapter 11: Everyone Learns the Hard Way**

The walk from Harrington house to the boys' dorm was a difficult one. Larry could move himself, but he lacked strength and coordination and he was shivering violently so he leaned on Norton. Ricky had lent him his prized black leather jacket, but it offered little comfort even though some of his body heat lingered on it.

During the trek, Vance and Ricky seemed to want to say something to Norton, but they didn't. The black greaser assumed that it was about what he had said to Derby Harrington. He decided that it wasn't any of their business, so it was better if they didn't ask. He had felt bad for saying it, but he felt that he had needed to, for the sake of everyone involved. It would be simpler if the preppies didn't think they had an instant access to Johnny's undiscriminating rage via Larry.

When the four had managed to get to the crossroads where they would turn right to the boy's dorm, they saw people on bicycles steer to the school grounds via the front gate. Upon seeing the four boys, they hit the breaks and stopped skillfully without hitting each other. Or, at least, some of them did: most of them weren't quite sober.

The performance that was closest to being perfect belonged to Johnny Vincent, who stopped and jumped down from his bicycle with one, fluid motion. When the young man let his bike fall to its side, he took long, strong strides towards Norton's group. When he stopped in front of them, his right-hand man gulped. Johnny didn't seem to be even the slightest bit drunk. How was that possible?

"What the fuck did they do to him?" asked he, his voice shaking with anger as he looked at Larry.

Vance was about to tell him, but Norton cut him off.

"No time to tell. We oughta get this guy to the dorm, he's freezing his balls off", he said gruffly.

"NO, Norton, YOU go take him to the dorm and the rest of us go beat Darbie and his Ken, and all the other rich scumbags", Johnny responded with a low but clear voice. He most certainly wasn't drunk, for whatever reason that was. The rest of the greasers stood behind him, nodding approvingly.

"THE HELL YOU ARE, BOSS! That's what they want, don't give it to them! They _want _us to wage war against 'em so they can get the the teachers, the prefects, and the head boy work against us!" Norton bellowed in retaliation.

"He's... Right", Larry said, his voice trembling, and raised his head to look at Johnny. He took a glance at him, his brows knitting together, then turned his eyes back to the ground. Johnny frowned as he looked at him. His face was incredibly pale, his damp hair was stuck to his forehead, and his body was shivering all over. The clique leader's nose scrunched in bitter disappointment at both him and Norton.

"Fine. Fuckin' whatever", he huffed, "but we're gonna wake Hopkins up right now and if the boy wonder gives his okay, we're stormin' the preppie nest immediately."

After making enough noise, the greasers had managed to wake up Jimmy Hopkins, now a prefect and the self-nominated king of the school, and Pete Kowalski, the head boy. Upon seeing the state Larry was in, they only wanted to hear the basics until he the boy would be warmed up again. The noise of the greasers suddenly returning to their respective bunks woke up several people, among them the nerds, who remarked that a hypothermia patient should be warmed up gradually.

When they had managed to get Larry out of his wet clothes and into a warm bath, the greasers discussed the situation with Jimmy and Pete in the recreational room. Norton did most of the talking, while others listened. Johnny was the most quiet of all, which was atypical of him. Kowalski promised that he'd try to get this into Dr. Crabblesnitch's attention, but he said that they shouldn't expect too much. The Harrington family's ties with Dr. Crabblesnitch always came first to whatever anyone, even the head boy, said about Derby's activities. Jimmy said he would give the preppies what was coming to them soon enough, but he wouldn't let Johnny lay a finger on them.

Now, Norton was sitting in the rec room with Larry, having soaked in warm water for a long time, but still rather chilly and in need of calories. The second-in-command of the greasers had volunteered to keep him company until he would be back to normal temperatures while others slept. It gave him a chance to properly speak to him alone while the boy snacked on a candy bar someone had nicked from Melvin.

"You remember anythin' about what I said at the Harrington house?" the taller boy asked, breaking the bout of silence.

Larry, buried under several blankets, frowned and nodded sternly. He did.

"Do you understand why I said that stuff?"

"Yeah. I appreciate it, man. Thanks", Larry said faintly.

Norton sighed, both relieved and sort of frustrated at the same time.

"I kinda thought you would", he muttered.

"You really ain't a greaser no more, just like ya said."

Now it was official to Norton, too: Larry did not want to be associated with the greasers anymore, period. The two hadn't been in friendly terms when they had still been new to the clique, Norton having been on Johnny's side before the times when he and Larry had even been rivals, but they had eventually become friendlier with each other after Larry had stepped down. So, this wasn't exactly nice to Norton either.

"I didn't think it'd be this final, either. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense", Larry told, his voice somewhat tired as he took one last bite left of the candy bar.

"So are you still... Y'know...", Norton tried to ask without putting his question into words. Larry understood and shut his eyes tightly, then pressed his chin to his chest so most of his face was covered with a blanket. He didn't feel that what he was about to talk about were fit for a man's mouth.

"It ain't gone anywhere. In the end, it got nothin' to do with how grateful I was at him savin' me or some crap. I mean, even when he was kickin' my ass over nothin' at the Hole I just felt... I just don't know", he told, his explanation muffled by the covers.

Norton looked away and shook his head. Larry noticed his disbelief and revealed his face again, to show him he wasn't kidding. Not that the black youngster really thought he was.

"I know what you're thinkin', and I'm thinkin' the same, probably: things like this just don't happen. But I guess they do and it fuckin' blows", he said pessimistically.

Norton frowned at Larry. The greaser did not, by any means, have the heart to believe that Larry could fake having a crush on his best friend for this long. He had doubted it when he had first forced the information out of him, but afterwards, he had seen so many things. Nothing too obvious, ever, but the signs still had been there.

"The guys still sorta think that you're comin' back", Norton commented.

"Too bad but I ain't. It sucks, but I don't want them to know the real reason, either", Larry responded.

"Lola knows, right?"

"She does. She thinks it's funny. Can't really blame her, I woulda thought it's funny if it weren't me it's happenin' to", Larry hemmed.

Norton opened his mouth to say something, but what he wanted to ask didn't seem to want to come out. He had to encourage it one more time before it let itself be spat out.

"Larry, are you sure you're okay with this?"

Larry swallowed as he constructed sentences that made some sense of the ridiculous torrent of thoughts and feelings inside him.

"Yes", he sighed, "I am. I got nothin' against you guys, but I just, it's gonna kill me if I don't bust outta this scene. I can't let this thing get the best of me", he explained, sounding determined.

Norton rolled his eyes at his stubbornness. Greasers, they were all somehow alike when it came to things like this.

"Y'know, it could be that Johnny wouldn't be mad. Maybe he'd lay off a bit if you told him, he'd let you have your distance and not... Jump at you every time Lola's givin' him shit", he hinted. Larry shook his head.

"At this point, it don't matter what he'd think or what he'd do. We both know what he is and what he ain't. Besides, this is somethin' I gotta learn, y'know?"

"What's that supposta mean?" Norton asked, baffled.

"Well, it's the same with normal guys like you, right? You can't just whip your dick out at the sight of a chick, or get every chick you want no matter how you do things right. And it's gonna be like that, always. You just hafta cope somehow. 'Cause we can't all afford bein' like Lola", Larry muttered thoughtfully. He felt lucky that he had learned so much from his friends' mistakes before he had managed to make them himself.

"But seriously man, there coulda been some other way than runnin' off 'n' burnin' all the bridges behind ya", Norton grumbled.

"I dunno, maybe. But this is what I'm gonna do. Otherwise I'm just... Gonna keep hopin'", the drowsy ex-greaser responded, his eyes half-lidded.

The two sat quietly for a while, looking at nowhere in particular. Norton wasn't happy about any of this, but he figured that his intrusion wouldn't particularly help: Larry had made his decision.

"Are you gonna sleep here or in your bunk?" the tall greaser asked, breaking the silence again.

"I think imma stay here. Thanks for keepin' me company, Nort", Larry said, sounding like he was going to fall asleep any moment.

Norton nodded at him and stood up. As the boy left the rec room, leaving his pal sitting on the couch, Larry made one more mental note before dozing off: it was time to stop being so childish. It was time to do something he had tried to avoid for a long time: call home.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I know there doesn't seem to be a single bathroom or anything of the sort in the boys' dorm but I don't care, there has to be one hidden around there somewhere.


	12. Brothers and Sisters

**Author's Notes: **There's an OC, but it's not a significant one. I'm trying to be careful with them, alright?

* * *

**Chapter 12: Brothers and Sisters**

"Hey, boss. Can I have that?"

Johnny Vincent didn't realize he was being talked to. He looked into the ground with his intense, dark eyes and kept bouncing a socket wrench up and down in his hand.

"Boss!"

Suddenly, the greaser king came to and, as he did so, he dropped the wrench. The loud clank startled him, almost making him stumble backwards into a broken moped.

"Oops. Sorry Lucky", he apologized and picked the tool up. Then he crouched to hand it over to the tall auburn-haired greaser who was on his back, ready to go back under the car he was working on. When he returned to his work, Johnny turned his eyes back to where they had been fixed moments ago and remained quiet.

The greasers were indulging in their extracurricular club activities at the auto shop, but as it had been typical of Johnny for the past few weeks after Larry's encounter with the preppies, the king was distracted. There were many things that could have caused that, but, unsurprisingly, this bout of moping had a distinct whiff of Lola.

Whenever things with the greaser queen reached a breaking point, Johnny would rant and rage about them to the nearest victim but, before that, he tended to be stubbornly quiet about whatever problems they had. There was also this agreement of sorts which greasers tried to respect the best they could: no talk about broads during club activities. Right now, though, it was about to be broken by one certain Hal Esposito, who was tired of looking at Johnny's brooding.

"A penny for your thoughts, boss", he said, giving a meaningful look at everyone present inside the room, making sure nobody gave him crap afterwards.

Johnny looked at Hal expressionlessly, then sniffed and shifted his weight on his legs. He was reluctant to speak – it's not like he loved to show how out of control his relationship was, much less burden his friends with his problems. Sure, he had always talked about them to Larry, but he had always assured it was fine with him.

"It's... It's nothing important", he harrumphed. Hal cocked his brow in doubt.

"Well, I... I messed up with Lola. Did somethin' I probably shouldn't have", Johnny muttered. Ricky and Lefty stopped working on their projects and raised their head to look at their king expectantly.

"Remember that night when Larry got attacked by preppies? That night, I managed to get Lola drunk and I... We...", he said, hesitating to continue.

Suddenly, he had the undivided, hopeful attention of every greaser in the room. Hal, however, rolled his eyes.

"Tsch, Lola, drunk? Boss, you oughta know better," he snarked.

"Wuh, what. What's she like when she's drunk?" Ricky asked, distracted from Johnny's distress.

"It's like instant PMS, innit boss? You oughta know", Hal said, grinning at Johnny suggestively. The clique leader cleared his throat and looked away.

"Anyway, I took her to the Blue Balls Pool Hall for some privacy, got her drunk, and I tried to get her to... Talk."

The anticipation, you could almost hear it crumbling.

"It's... It's kinda hard to get her to talk about somethin' she don't wanna. She just weasels outta it by distractin' me. But when she's drunk... Well. She don't try that shit when she's drunk", Johnny explained.

"So, what didja try to talk about with her?" Lucky asked, wiping his hands clean with a rag as he sat up.

"About that disgustin' prank she pulled, mostly. Or whatever that was, I ain't even sure. I still can't figure out why she did that, what Peanut, or me, could've done to piss her off", Johnny murmured.

He didn't notice it, but in the back of the auto shop, Vance's face suddenly turned sour upon the mention of Larry.

"What did she say?" Hal asked.

"Not much. She pretty much just laughed at me, like I was an idiot. Told me to figure it out by myself."

"Sheesh, boss. I know we keep pesterin' ya about this, but there are plenty of fish in the sea that aren't as high maintenance", Hal grumbled.

"... I know. But I don't wan't 'em", Johnny answered bluntly. The other greasers looked at each other, not sure what to say.

"Y'know, Peanut told me one thing about Lola that I hadn't really realized. Somethin' that makes her different: she ain't just a pretty face, she's smart. She's really smart", he said, a surprisingly mellow and sad smile lingering on his lips.

"Well, so? If you want a smart one, try that effin' nerd, she's like a walkin' dictionary", Hal snorted.

Johnny shook his head and sighed.

"Not smart like _that._ Lola's different. She looks at a person like we look at bikes. She knows people so well, it's almost scary. She understands the streets too, and she ain't no alley cat: more like an alley tiger", he said, pausing for a moment to organize his thoughts once more. Everyone else seemed to hold their breath – it was rather rare for Johnny to be this open about things like this in front of a crowd.

"She's like us, always true to the streets. She's a chick, but she's also a bro, y'know? Peanut helped me realize: that's why I love her", stated he, his voice very serious.

"It's embarrassing to get so worked up over a harlot like her, but I... I can't help it. I don't want a _nice _chick, I want her. If only she were satisfied with me..."

All of a sudden, Vance stood up, his abrupt movement pushing a tool trolley against another and making a loud bang. When everyone in the room turned to look at him, he let out a strangled noise from his throat, then stormed out with sharp, angry strides, almost bumping into Norton who was coming in with some spare parts from the yard.

"Wha- what was that about?" the black greaser asked, baffled.

Everyone else was just as confused as he was.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the center of the town of Bullworth, Larry Romano was standing in a hallway, dazed and hardly believing that he was really there. With that thought, he gulped and rang a doorbell. When the door in front of him opened, he was greeted by a woman somewhere in her twenties. Her hair was brown and wavy and her eyes were similarly dark as Larry's, but larger and more inquisitive and welcoming. The two stared at each other for a moment, the woman smiling at Larry's awkwardness.

"Hey sis", the boy finally said.

"Heyyy. Is that all your stuff?" the woman asked. Her brother looked at his suit case and his ragged, worn out backpack, then nodded.

"Come in, then", Connie Romano, Larry's only sister, welcomed.

Connie had always been a comforting figure to her little brother, even though Larry was reluctant to admit it. She was one of the very few who made Larry feel genuine guilt when he was scolded for not keeping in contact with his family. They had been very close when they had been kids, but they had started growing apart when Connie had become more interested in "girly" things in her early teens. The biggest blow to their brother-sister relationship had, however, been the time that Connie had spent in college in a different state. When she had dropped out and come back to Bullworth, Larry had reached the moody teenage years while Connie had already grown out of them. No longer did she automatically take Larry's side when he argued with their mother and stepfather, neither did she herself seem to particularly like Larry's rebellious behavior. She had become a "reasonable", "sensible" adult. Larry hadn't wanted another one of those in his life.

Now, however, the young man was very grateful that such a person existed near him. He had contacted his mother Diane first, but she had moved into the next town with Larry's and Connie's stepfather and half-brother. Unusual of her, she had listened to her son quietly as he had told her, with rather vague descriptions, what had happened and what his life at school had become. Perhaps to further separate him from his greaser friends, who Diane had never liked, she had promised to get him out of the dorms.

So there Larry was, standing in the middle of his sister's small apartment, about to start living there for the time being. He had agreed to do whatever he could to find a part-time job and help Connie out with chores and whatever came to her mind.

"Lemme see your hands!" Connie suddenly said and grabbed her brother's wrists as he put down his luggage. Larry let out a frustrated sigh as his sister raised his hands closer to her eyes and examined them. Then, she abandoned his left hand in favor of his right as she separated his fingers with hers and examined his nails.

"Hee, you have such nice hands and fingernails, but they're so worn out. Would you let me give you a manicure?" she giggled.

"What? NO!" Larry retaliated crankily. Connie worked at the Old Bullworth Vale Hair, Nails, and Beauty and she loved to tease his brother with things like this.

"Okay, what about a hand reading?" she asked and turned his hand around so she could see his palm.

"Nah. Besides, haven't you done a reading already?" Larry huffed.

"Things change, little brother! The left hand is the one we are born with, and the right is what we have made of it", Connie lectured. Palmistry and tarot readings and other nonsense was a little something she did on the side to her customers to earn a bit of extra. Larry's unenthusiastic expression told Connie that she shouldn't push it too much.

"Well," she said and let go of his hand, "one thing you _are _going to let me do is to do something about that hair."

Larry froze as he felt his sister's fingers pulling on a strand of his limp, uncomfortable hair. Then he nodded, a faint grin tugging his lips. He couldn't agree more.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Y'know what I find hilarious about Peanut? When you see him in free roam at the auto shop area, he often has random "MUST GET BUSTED BY PREFECTS" moments, which is when he pulls out his slingshot and won't stop running until he finds a girl or a little kid to shoot at, right in front of a prefect.


	13. A Little Help

**Chapter 13: A Little Help**

Time goes by really darn fast when you have a lot to do and think about, as Larry Romano had been bound to notice. He hadn't managed to find a job yet, but thanks to his sister's pestering, he was trying to figure out what to do after high school. Not used to thinking about that, his stomach seemed to fill with stones when he tried to. The range of possibilities was so narrow to a guy who has hardly done anything remotely resembling school work during high school.

The young man looked up from the ground, focusing on looking ahead again as he walked towards his sister's place with the groceries. Something floated from the sky as he did so: snow. Great, just what he needed. Although Larry's brown hair was now short, he hadn't quite yet gotten the hang of wearing hats for warmth.

Then, suddenly, snow was his smallest worry. From the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of young men and caught them looking at him over their shoulders. When he looked to the side, he saw another two loitering around, and they seemed to nod at the others, who now started to approach Larry with casual, lazy steps. Young men who wore orange pieces of clothing and reeked of danger... These weren't just any people, these belonged into a group of people Larry had been in dozens of scuffles before: the dropouts.

"Yer... Urgh... Walnut, right?" a raspy voice asked.

"It's Pea-... Larry Romano", Larry answered, his body tensing and his grip on his grocery bag tightening. He would possibly have to run for it: one pissed off dropout was already a whole lot. He was no match to four of these people.

"See? I told ya it wasn't Walnut", sniffed another guy, this one dark-skinned and seemingly very uninterested about all of this.

"Whatever man! I think we found our guy, anyhows. I remember the face."

Larry looked at the men with an increasingly doubtful scowl.

"We saw ya at the Hole... You were fightin' against that Johnny Vincent guy", said a stout brown-haired man.

"Yeah, you two fought like girls. But I guess that's what you can expect from greasers, ha! I heard you were high durin' the fight, though. That's rad, that actually takes some guts", the raspy-voiced young man laughed.

That, of course, wasn't exactly true but Larry wasn't going to argue against it if it was going to help him not get beaten.

"Whatcha want from me?" he growled.

The men looked at each other, grinning.

"Hopkins said yer lookin' for work", said the unenthusiastic dark-skinned youngster.

"And I've got a lil' job fer ya", said the raspy-voiced, somehow maniacal man.

"What kinda job?" Larry asked out of suspicion, but also showing genuine curiosity.

"You know yer bikes, right greaseball? Well I got bikes, and they need some fixin'. The name's Clint, by the way", the same man chuckled.

"What's in it for me?" Larry asked.

"Money, dumbass. Also, we're buddies with Edgar: if someone knows them open jobs, its him", Clint snorted.

"Guys, I'm getting' hungry. Can we go already?" said the fourth man, who had remained quiet this far.

"Alright, sheesh! Listen, kid: tomorrow, at six, this location. Got it?" Clint snarled and handed Larry a grimy piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. The four men started walking towards New Coventry and the confused ex-greaser tried to make something out of whatever was written on the paper.

As the band of dropouts was gaining distance, a thought suddenly came to Clint and he turned around.

"DUDE! Six in the **_evening_**!" he shouted at Larry, who was still somewhat dazed. He looked up from the scrap of paper and nodded at him.

After brandishing some mad deciphering skills on the note he had been given, Larry had determined that he was expected to turn up at a certain run-down warehouse in Blue Skies industrial area. The night was increasingly cold as he pedaled through New Coventry, wary of slippery spots on the road. He gulped as he passed Lucky and Lefty hanging at a street corner, but managed to seem like he hadn't noticed them. He wondered what they would think if they knew that the previous right-hand man of Johnny Vincent was meeting up with the dropouts.

Greasers and the townie kids, affectionately called the dropouts, had been involved with each other in the past and the results had almost always been violent. The two groups were sharing the same ecological niche in Bullworth, and that niche was usually dominated by the dropouts. Greasers, their common trait being that they were students of Bullworth, had the misfortune – or rather, fortune – of losing members to further education, jobs, or spouses. The dropouts, however, were the bottom of the barrel: they hardly had any further aspirations than to have a minimum-wage job, steal stuff, and be a general nuisance to everyone in their vicinity.

To greasers, probably the most annoying aspect of the dropouts was their liking for stealing bicycles. The greasers themselves did it too, but it was far less forgivable when you yourself were the victim of it. Larry himself remembered several times when he had lost a newly tuned bike to a greedy townie kid and now he was going to what was most likely Clint's bike stash, to fix and tune broken goodies.

Larry passed a pile of large industrial crates, then he saw his destination. When he hit the brakes and skidded across the snow, he saw Clint ahead, leaning against a wall and smoking. He gave a crazy smirk as the ex-greaser walked up to him with his bike.

"Nice bike man. Didja tune it yerself?"

"Uh-huh", Larry grunted.

"Bring it inside with ya, otherwise it's as good as gone", Clint snickered and started escorting Larry and his bike around the corner of the warehouse that he had just leaned against. When the two were inside, the ex-greaser's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"That's... That's a lot of bikes", he said as he looked at rows of different-looking bicycles, even kids' bicycles. There was even one unicycle and a couple of tricycles in the mix.

"Better start workin' on them, huh?" Clint sneered, proudly standing with his arms akimbo while looking at his collection.

This could take a while, Larry thought.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I don't know if you can tell, but my favorite greaser is actually... Hal Esposito. MMMM, BABY HUMAN.


	14. Holding it in

**Chapter 14: Holding it in**

Just when Johnny Vincent had seemed to be feeling a bit better despite his Lola problems, Vance Medici had also started to mope. Everyone at the greaser clique knew that a guy needs to brood sometimes, but the timing was just bad: now there were two teenagers sulking. As the greaser king was withdrawn to think about how to go about getting Lola to speak to him and the red-haired greaser played hooky from club activities and seemed to avoid contact, the rest of the guys gritted their teeth.

It was especially annoying to Hal Esposito, who just didn't get it. He wasn't the kind to wallow in self-pity, even though he had some self-esteem problems and knew he was generally regarded as the ugliest greaser. Hell, Hal not only had fallen into the "funny fat guy" role, he played it straight and was still able to remain pretty cheery. So what exactly was it about life that was so hard for thin, well groomed guys that constantly made them moody and miserable?

As the overweight greaser looked at the drawings for the skull pattern he had designed for a bicycle, he was feeling lazy. Lazy and irritated. Everyone except Johnny and Lola were present at the auto shop and yet everyone was quiet, again. He was staring at Vance, who was dragging the mood down because he had somehow decided that today was a good day to show up at the tuning club despite not being into it at all. He was practically begging for someone to inquire what was wrong with him.

Hal had been stubborn, but it was time to get this over with. But he wasn't going to be gentle and super understanding about it, oh no.

"VAAAANCE!" he suddenly snarled with an ascending tone, startling everyone in the room.

"What the hell's wrong with you? Spit it out!" he continued, his pent up annoyance evident in his voice.

When the shout descended upon the rest of the greasers and it rung in their ears in the silence, its delayed effect almost made Ricky burst in laughter. Fortunately, he managed to save it. Vance looked offended enough as it was.

"Whatcha mean?" the short greaser asked huffily.

"You know _exactly _what I mean!" Hal snapped back.

All the boys glanced at Vance, as if to say "Yeah, we all know". The sour youth crossed his arms on his chest and hemmed.

"I just think it's strange, s'all", he said with a poisonous tone.

"Well, what is?" Hal asked impatiently.

"That I seem to be the only one bothered that Peanut left like that", Vance continued. Hal immediately rolled his eyes and let out an exaggeratedly frustrated-sounding breath.

"_Sheesh._ Okay guys, raise your hands if you feel happy that Larry left, I wanna see 'em!" he said, looking around for some hands.

"C'mon, anyone?" he further demanded, only to meet shaking heads and awkward coughs.

"Gee, whaddya know, nobody seems to be happy that Larry left. _What a surprise_", Hal snarked as he turned back to face Vance.

"You just don't get it. I mean, am I the only goddamn one who thinks it's real weird that boss beat the hell out of him for nothin', then Peanut just took off without makin' any noise? And that boss let him, just like that? Hell, the guy even moved outta the damn dorm! And cut his _hair_!" the redhead ranted in disbelief.

"Tsch. It's _you _who don't get it", Hal shot back, shaking his head.

Norton frowned at him, suddenly looking somewhat tense and ready to interrupt the conversation.

"Hm! Whatcha mean by that?" Vance hemmed. The rest of the greasers seemed somewhat confused as well.

"I guess it's okay for _you_ to not know since you came here later. Ricky too. But everyone else here oughta know: what was goin' on between Larry and boss, it was _unnatural_", Hal explained.

Vance was obviously taken aback by that. His mouth gaped and he seemed to draw a blank when he looked for words. His face couldn't even decide on an expression: it flickered between outrage and hurt. He really just couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I mean, seriously. You don't seem to have _any _idea how strong the rivalry between Larry and boss was! Or how long Larry can hold a grudge. Didja somehow to miss how he kept eggin' that nerd Thad's window a year after he broke that yardstick over his head? He even had someone else do it for him if he couldn't do it himself, for god's sake."

"So, wha, do you mean, like... I mean, was Peanut just...", Vance stuttered, not having gotten a hold of himself after slightly misunderstanding what Hal had meant with "unnatural".

"Yeah, are ya sayin' that Peanut was just pretendin'?" Ricky joined in, seeming angry.

Lucky and Lefty looked at each other, somewhat worried about how things were turning out. Norton gulped, wondering if he would seem too suspicious if he stopped and derailed the conversation here.

"Tsch, dunno. I guess he coulda really have forgotten all about how things used to be, but I doubt it. I think, the real reason to why Larry agreed to be Johnny's gopher is because he's just that kinda guy. When he thinks somethin's his duty, he does it, and he don't whine about it. He's stupidly loyal 'n' shit and it was Johnny who pretty much saved his _life, _man", Hal explained, crossing his arms.

"Yeah... I always thought it was strange how things turned out. I mean, there was some crazy shit happenin' between those two 'n' suddenly Peanut stepped down and became Johnny's dog. Suddenly he don't want no Lola, no recognition for his name, nada", Lefty cautiously agreed.

"Yeah so, y'see Vance? That", Hal harrumphed, "and Lola's shenanigans is why I always thought it was only a matter of time before somethin' like this happened."

Vance looked to the ground, having calmed himself down, but he still seemed unsatisfied with that explanation.

"I still think that the real reason why Peanut's gone now is because he's _gay_", he said.

Norton almost choked on his tongue.

"Wuh, wha? Oh c'mon. I know you're bi or whatever, and I don't care, but don't project yourself or your insecurities on other people", Hal sneered. Ricky, Lucky, and Lefty showed their approval by nodding.

"I know you don't wanna believe me, but let me tell ya, I happen to kno-", Vance started talking, fast.

"VANCE!" Norton suddenly snapped loudly, the expression on his face a bunch of different shades of imposing and intimidating.

Everyone turned to look at him with, scared, then Norton realized his mistake. After the initial shock, a hint of suspicion flitted across his fellow greasers' faces.

"There's... No truth to that, is there Nort?" Lefty carefully prodded.

"Yeah, I mean, he had that thing with Mandy... More than a year ago...", Lucky mumbled, desperately trying to think of more examples.

"Guys, NO. No way, we aren't gonna even speculate things like this", Norton demanded adamantly.

"I was right, I knew it!" Vance hemmed victoriously.

Norton let out the loudest hush he had ever mustered and his hands made a distinct "keep it down" gesture as he looked to the door of the shop. When the greasers shut up, he jogged to the doorway and peered outside, checking for something, or somebody. When he closed the door and came back, he shot an angry glare at Vance. The rest of the boys were looking at Norton, expecting an explanation.

"No talks of this sort ever reach Johnny's ears, _capisce_? Whatever's goin' on with Peanut, we ain't gonna start spreadin' things like that" the black youth grumbled and turned away from his fellow greasers' eyes, planning to ignore their demanding expressions.

"Dude! Spill the goddamn beans already! What do you know that I don't?" Hal lashed out, taking a step closer to the tall right-hand man.

Norton's eyes were drawn back to his friends. They were, all except Vance, in shock and disbelief. The redhead just looked at Norton knowingly, bitterly. What was truly in common with all of them was, surprisingly, a hint of worry and concern. The black greaser shut his eyes for a moment, then sighed.

"If I tell you, you _have _to promise that you don't tell boss, ever. In fact, you ain't even talkin' about this among yourselves because we all know Johnny loves to eavesdrop, so shut the hell up, for his sake. And for Peanut's sake", he said, with a clear, authorative tone.


	15. Unfettered

**Chapter 15: Unfettered**

Christmas came and went in Bullworth Academy. In this school, instead of being a celebration of peace and the birth of that one guy who a lot of people seem to know, Christmas was a time of being creative with using snow as a tool of abuse and moaning about how cold it was. And surely, the students were very creative indeed when they least needed to. It hadn't taken long for deeply worrying snow sculptures depicting acts of debauchery to appear.

This year's end wasn't your usual one, however. The social cliques, whose scuffles usually escalated around all kinds of special occasions, seemed unusually listless and unorganized. Except the bullies, of course, since they were listless and unorganized by default. Although Peter Kowalski's unforeseen determination to tone down the clique's influence on students was a factor in this, it seemed as though a simple concentration of bad luck played a bigger role.

Apparently Earnest Jones and his perverted shenanigans had managed to bring down his trustworthiness as a leader. This coupled with hostility between people supporting the usage of a new, updated Grottoes & Gremlins rulebook and the supporters of the old one had made things rather difficult for the nerds. Their opposites, the jocks, were in peril because Ted Thompson had suddenly become very ill. The reason was unknown but accusing looks were shot towards Damon West. Preppies, on the other hand, seemed to not only be getting more thorough scrutiny from the prefects, but also had problems due to Derby Harrington and Tad Spencer duking it out with each other.

The greasers were limping forward, too. Things had gotten better some time after Peanut's encounter with the preppies, but there had been another plummet. Nobody outside the clique knew why exactly, but the greasers had become suspiciously stifled and submissive around their leader. The assumed reason was that they were bracing for another impact: Lola Lombardi had not only started to avoid Johnny, but all kinds of contact with people in general. That had to be a sign that something bad was about to happen.

All in all, it was truly the season for those who didn't belong. Those who had no interest and those who simply couldn't make it into the cliques. When students came back from their winter break in January, the non-clique students were unusually refreshed and empowered – this included Larry Romano, the ex-greaser. Although very few people noticed or cared, he seemed to have changed significantly.

This change did not, however, escape Johnny Vincent, who felt that the world was just rubbing it in for him. He hadn't thought that it could ever be a problem, but Larry's recovery was starting to get to him.

"Hey man", the greaser king greeted as he approached Ricky in the school hall.

"Hey boss. Er- how's it goin'?", the tall greaser asked.

"Ricky. I have to ask you somethin'. Somethin' about Larry", Johnny said ominously. His junior seemed to tense immediately, looking desperately to the sides for any kind of distraction.

"W-what is it boss", he said, not actually inquiring in any way. He didn't want to know.

"I notice that you guys are really quiet... And there have been rumors...", Johnny mumbled, his words being too quiet for the busy students around them. Ricky seemed to break sweat and the corner of his mouth twitched nervously as he leaned forward and listened.

"I'm guessin' you guys are tryin' to be considerate by not tellin' me, but really, I wanna know..."

"Y-yes, boss?" the tall brunette stammered. Johnny frowned, noticing Ricky's uneasiness and only becoming more confident because of it.

"Is it true that Larry's hangin' around with the townies?" he asked with all the seriousness in the world.

Ricky blinked.

"W-wha?"

"... What, you don't know?" Johnny said, cocking his brow.

"I- I, uhh. Yeah, sure! Whew. Well, I mean yeah, I also heard somethin' like that. Pretty wild huh?" Ricky prattled, seeming very relieved.

"Well what didja think I was gonna ask you about?" the greaser king snorted.

"Eyuhhhm... Lola? 'Cause if it's about her, I just don't know man, I really don't know, heh heh", the younger man nervously laughed, shuffling his feet and turning his eyes to the floor.

As Ricky looked back at Johnny, he realized that he was looking somewhere else, seeming concerned and a tad annoyed. When the boy determined the direction, he looked the same way. It was Larry, unsurprisingly.

"Dropouts. I mean, really, those psychos, junkies, losers? What's he doin' with them, Ricky?"

"Dunno man. Dunno", the lean junior said, sighing.

Johnny frowned deeper as he observed his old friend. He didn't look that different if you compared his looks to how he was after his resignation from the greasers. He had cut his hair: it was short all around but left slightly longer at the top so that the unruly brown strands right above his forehead stood up as spikes where his greased pompadour had been. But, that was pretty much it. He hadn't adopted any kind of different style for his usual school attire or anything. He hadn't suddenly gotten taller or more toned, either.

The real change was the way he carried himself. Instead of hastily marching ahead, slightly hunched and his shoulders tense, he took long, fluid strides with an open posture. It was like he was walking in slo-mo. His confident, energetic gait was almost swaggering as he ran his hand through his hair, walked the stairs down, greeted Jimmy Hopkins on the way to the front door, and passed Johnny and Ricky as if they weren't there.

Johnny jogged his memory – how had he walked when he had still been a greaser? Had it ever been anything like this?

"I didn't think I'd ever say anything this Crabblecrotch-like Ricky, but I sure hope he's keepin' his nose clean", he muttered after the ex-greaser disappeared through the door. The younger boy couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so he just nodded.

* * *

As Larry walked to the school's parking lot, doing his best to avoid a big snow fight, and unlocked his bicycle, he was in high spirits. He had spent Christmas at his mother's place and, against all odds, it had actually been pretty decent. He had never enjoyed being around his strict and stuck up stepfather Harvey, but for the first time in a really long time, he had interacted with his half-brother Scott and it hadn't been totally awkward. If Larry and his sister had a gap somewhere, it was nothing compared to what was between him and Scott: there was an eight-year age difference and the fact that Scott had grown up in sterile suburbia while Larry had never been a stranger to the rougher, more colorful side of life.

It was the same now. He had managed to get a part-time job at a warehouse via Edgar Munsen and Larry found that it was probably the most exhaustingly dull thing he had subjected himself to, but at the same time it was exactly what he needed. Nothing blows away self-centered angst quite like hard labor and seeing people who are dependent on such work. People with real troubles with their spouses, like, I-wanna-strangle-you-and-dance-on-your-grave kind of troubles, men who have become unable to breed thanks to the now non-operational chemical plant next to them, and smart, creative minds stuck doing jobs that a retarded monkey could do – that kind of stuff makes you think. Makes you appreciate certain things.

Furthermore, Larry had gotten new friends. Sort of. He was at least in friendly terms with many of the dropouts despite being a student at Bullworth Academy, mostly because Clint had evaluated him to be an alright guy after he had been done with his bicycles. Larry had at first been determined not to have any more affiliation with townies than it was absolutely necessary, but now he was warming up to the idea of hanging out with them more often.

One thing that was great about the dropouts and Blue Skies folk in general was that they didn't have any of that convoluted, tangled social mess that Bullworth Academy did: it didn't matter who you spent time with or what kinds of things you were into. It certainly helped if you weren't rich or a student, but otherwise you were free to be almost anything you wanted and nobody was concerned about being seen with you.

It was freedom. He had found it in a most dehumanizing environment, but Larry had gotten a taste of it nonetheless. It was great.


	16. Snowy Delights

**Chapter 16: Snowy Delights**

If there was a season that was bad for the greasers, it was winter. Winter meant darkness, slippery roads, persistently intruding hobos at the tenements, uncooperative machinery and hair, and very cold nights. Considering both the internal and external circumstances, it was very hard for a greaser to not be at least a bit depressed.

Johnny Vincent was sick of it all. To make matters worse, the prefects had spontaneously decided that there would be no more smoking in the auto shop area, period. They were all too eager to bust someone enjoying a cigarette there, and as a passionate smoker, Johnny wasn't pleased. He would usually have a nice peaceful drag behind the oil barrel stack, but not any more, thanks to some moral panic about fire safety or some such nonsense.

So, the greasers had been forced to find shelter elsewhere. They had opted for the now empty hobo haven behind the trashed school bus since it was close. Johnny snickered as he remembered how Dr. Crabblesnitch was _going_ to have the vehicle fixed until his band of merry greasers had detached every valuable part off the old thing and smashed the rest. Good times.

As Johnny looked around him to check if there were prefects lurking about and stepped inside the wrecked old bus, he wondered what had happened to the hobo himself. He had simply vanished one day. Word on the street said that he had become one of Edna's victims, and really, at least that would explain the occasional toenail you were bound to find from her meatloaf.

Johnny poked his head out of the other end of the bus and noticed that someone was in the hobo haven, but it wasn't the old crook himself. It was Lefty, having a smoke. Norton was keeping him company.

"Hey guys. Havin' a good one, are we?" he asked sardonically, very well aware that Lefty was just as annoyed by their restricted smoking schedule as he was.

"Yeah boss, a _really_ good one", the short, black-haired greaser grumbled and shuddered in the sudden cold breeze.

Without further ado, Johnny dug out his pack of smokes and leaned against the creaky wooden fence surrounding the haven. After getting a burning nicotine stick between his lips, the tension melted away a bit: his face smoothed out upon seeing the almost artistic puffs of smoke drifting away with the air flow. The three boys were in total silence for a good while, everyone looking into nothingness. This had been the default setting of any greaser gathering for a while now.

Johnny decided that it was time to talk. And not just about any meaningless thing.

"Y'know what guys...", he started, gathering his friends' attention.

"I always thought we greasers were one big, happy family", stated he, blowing out another cloud of smoke. Lefty and Norton looked at each other hesitantly.

"Well, aren't we, sort of?" Norton carefully asked. Johnny's lips twitched, discontent.

"I thought so, some time ago. I was obviously holdin' my head too high", Johnny said and sniffed, trying to clear his somewhat stuffy nose.

"Some leader I turned out to be", he added.

"Oh c'mon boss, don't be so hard on yourself. You ain't bad", Lefty comforted sincerely, although an edge of annoyance was detectable in his voice. He didn't want to talk about anything that'd make himself feel any gloomier.

"Oh yeah? We're all mopin' like there's no tomorrow. Lola won't speak to anyone, much less me. I'm pretty sure it ain't just what I did, it's also because of her folks at home or somethin'. But, she don't want to tell me. And Larry, I let him go, just like that – I shoulda been more persistent. We coulda sorted things out, maybe."

The two other greasers sighed and remained quiet, sort of agreeing. To Johnny, the silence was deafening. He hated it.

"I... I always thought we'd be better than our folks, y'know? That we'd show 'em. I mean, what's this world comin' to, huh? Families don't stick together no more, almost none of our folks do. People don't know their neighbors and streets ain't safe. I wanted to change that by ourselves, us real Bullworth kids together", Johnny rambled.

After he stopped, it was quiet for a moment again. But, this time Johnny could see that the sourness was bubbling to the surface. Shortly after, Lefty picked it up from there.

"Yeah. Gangs are all about drugs and violence and nobody knows how to fix anythin'. Nobody appreciates hard, honest work no more. And those damn cars – they ain't built to last nowadays. Who needs 'em", he said, bitterly.

Norton nodded in an agitated manner.

"And if you have a heart, enjoy music that actually has a message, or read a damn book, you're _gay_", he mumbled, scattering a pile of snow with a half-hearted kick.

The three greasers looked at each other, scowling. The same thought probably went through their minds: they couldn't let go of this. This was why they had become greasers to begin with. The clique could not sink, not like this.

"Y'know what guys. I have an idea. We'll do somethin' fun, all of us guys together", Johnny said, grinning.

"We'll go for a slide, at the usual place", he announced.

* * *

Without as much as a cough, the greasers were put into motion one Saturday evening in the end of January, seeming to be preparing for an operation of some sort. They departed from school grounds at the same time, carrying tools, flashlights, fire crackers, plastic bags, and a couple of cheap plastic sleds. They pedaled their way to New Coventry and from there to Blue Skies in smaller groups to avoid arousing too much suspicion as they passed the trailer park.

Their destination? The Chem-O-Lot chemical plant. It had been closed some time before the complete mayhem of Bullworth Academy due to the old, run-down factory not meeting the health and security standards of today. So, even now that its condition and possible renovation possibilities were being evaluated by engineers, it was left standing there with only a few regular workers who were left to maintain and guard it until it got a judgment of some sort. Perfect for greasers to mess around with. The security doors and elevator controls were a breeze if you knew what made them tick.

Their real problem were the workers. Workers like the sadistic and ever-cranky Omar Romero. He pedaled towards the trailer park, cursing under his breath like a sailor.

"Yo, Clint!" panted Omar when he saw the similarly tall and muscular townie, sitting on his snowy porch with his beloved bat.

"Where's the fire, Omar?" he sneered as his pal struggled to stop his bicycle on the trampled snow.

"Cut it out man, I'll kick yer fuckin' teeth in", the more serious townie snarled while trying to catch his breath. When he did that, he quickly sputtered:

"Listen, dude, we need all our guys at the chem plant, asap. The greaseballs broke in and a lot of us are wasted, some of us are pretty high too. If someone calls the cops, we're in deep shit man, deep shit."

"Well if it's just greasers, what's the problem? They're effin' pathetic fighters", Clint grumbled.

"They're all there, moron! And they have fire crackers 'n' shit! Gotta get rid of those sonuvabitches _fast, _so get a fuckin' move on and alert the others!"

"Alright, jeez!" Clint moaned, standing up and grabbing one of his bicycles like it was the most demanding thing he'd ever had to do. When he and Omar were about to start pedaling to the direction of the factory, Clint halted.

"Wait a sec, the new kid's got a night shift, right? I've got an idea, man", he said with a mean grin.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Eh, I don't really like the 50's.


	17. Hot and Cold

**Chapter 17: Hot and Cold**

"So, lemme get this straight... You're expectin' _me _to fight Johnny Vincent?"

What was written on Larry's face wasn't fear or even anger. It was a simple doubtful "You can't be serious". Clint cackled at him as he slammed the elevator control buttons, which had the tendency of not registering commands.

"Hayyyyup", he responded.

"What's in it for me?" Larry growled.

"We're gonna whip up twenty bucks fer ya if ya win", said Omar.

"If I _win_? Look, I haven't managed to hold my own against him in a _play fight_ in a long time, I ain't gonna win in a real one!" Larry barked.

"Don't be so modest! Just use the super moves I taught ya!" Clint chuckled.

"Makin' me a test dummy for your crazy wrestlin' moves ain't the same as teachin' them to me, Clint."

"Oh don't be such a girl, shorty!"

Larry pouted. Although he knew he wasn't _that _short, in fact his height was very average, it was a touchy subject for him. Especially when standing between two taller guys like Omar and Clint.

"Okay okay, look: ten bucks if ya knock him squarely off his feet, another ten if you beat him. Sound good, ye fuckin' wimp? You gotta fight in any case: we told the guys to hold them back for us. We'll look like idiots if we did that for nuthin'", Omar grumbled.

"Okay then, it's a deal", Larry snapped.

"Just like I told ya, just show him he ain't the boss of you no more!" Clint encouraged, grinning.

Larry frowned. As the old elevator of the chem plant struggled to go upwards, he wondered why he had even agreed to come. He wasn't mad at Johnny or anything and this could very well make the greaser king hate him. But maybe, just maybe, a small part of Larry was bitter about how helpless he had been at the Hole and wanted a rematch. The ex-greaser knew he was nothing phenomenal in any kinds of physical pursuits, except maybe baseball, but he still had some pride.

As the creaky metal cage came to a halt and the doors opened with rough scraping noises, Larry gulped. Just a short walk away, the roof of the chem plant awaited. When he was escorted there, he felt like he was taken to slaughter. He felt like he had swallowed a bucket of ice cubes.

"Hey, finally. What the hell took ya so long?" Gurney, a tall bearded townie, complained as he laid his eyes on the three men.

_Holy shit it's cold _were Larry's first thoughts. The moist, freezing wind was very vicious high up. The boy shuddered and sniveled as he stepped forward, towards the crowd. Some older workers were there, but he was greeted mostly by the dropouts and their doubtful glares. They made way for him, letting him to the front of the crowd to face off with a different one. He was suddenly face to face with Johnny, whose dark eyes pierced through the night.

Larry didn't want to let himself be flustered so he glanced at Johnny and the rest of the greasers, then looked around like they weren't there at all. It was nostalgic – he remembered several times when he himself had come to this place with the guys, tagging the place and having a merry time. The graffiti were still there, even.

"So it's true. You're with the dropout losers now", Johnny said sourly, his face twisting into one of anger and disappointment.

The ex-greaser cocked his brow at Johnny's emotion-laden tone – Larry's feigned nonchalance seemed to be working its magic. Then he looked at his friends: Hal stared at him questioningly, as if to demand answers from him, Norton seemed worried like always, and Vance, Ricky, Lucky, and Lefty expressed various shades of uncertainty and disapproval. He was delighted to notice that Lola wasn't present, she would enjoy something like this just a bit too much.

Larry decided that it was time to chill out a bit, for himself and his friends' sake as well. He took a deep, calming breath and let his shoulders slump a bit. His face smoothed out as he moistened his lips and shifted most of his weight on his right leg. Now he was more relaxed.

"Each to their own, Johnny", he finally responded with an almost friendly tone.

Suddenly, Larry felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking behind him, he saw a dark-skinned guy with a scar over his left eye. It was Edgar Munsen, the townie kid boss.

"Well, how about it, Vincent? If the new kid beats ya, you and your grease monkeys retreat, nice 'n' easy", he said with a smirk.

Johnny looked at him, then at Larry. He chuckled ominously.

"Like hell I'm gonna lose to him. You're next in line, Munsen!" he snarled, pointing his leather glove-clad finger at the orange-clad young man.

"We'll see. Okay new guy, here's your chance to show what yer made of", Edgar cheerily hummed and gave Larry a pat in the back.

"Guys, clear the way!" he ordered as he turned to the crowd, gesturing them to step back a bit. Johnny simply glanced over his shoulder and the greasers moved away.

"Alright kids, go for it!" Gurney yelled.

"Ready to lose, Larry?" Johnny murmured as he raised his fists.

This was the moment of truth, Larry realized as he looked deep into his opponent's eyes. Although it had mostly been traumatic and very unproductive, Clint, a brawl junkie as he was, had insisted on having "friendly" play fights with Larry ever so frequently and it had taught the ex-greaser some basic things that he should have already known.

Firstly, Larry had learned that equal size didn't mean equal power and that the same amount of experience didn't always come with the same results. Although they were of almost the same size, Johnny being only slightly taller and leaner, the two minds and bodies worked very differently. Johnny was a more natural fighter: although he hadn't ever really practiced, he had great stamina and good reach. Larry didn't have that luxury even though he had about the same amount of experience in fighting.

Most importantly, Larry had learned that he should not try to fight like Johnny. To the greaser king, frustration and anger were assets. They were his fuel: when Johnny Vincent was truly enraged, he was a beast. To Larry, however, those feelings were paralyzing, crippling poison. It was hard for him to harvest the heat of wrath without getting burned. He couldn't let himself get lost in the moment, he only made bad decisions when that happened. Therefore, when Larry Romano raised his fists, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He concentrated on the beating of his heart, trying to flush away the sound of blood and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

_Heat in the heart, cold in the head_ was his mantra as he prepared for battle. When the boy opened his eyes, they were piercing like Johnny's, but cool and still.

"What's the matter, Larry? Too scared to take on the king?" Johnny sneered as he observed the stiff and tense-looking youngster.

It was true that he was stiff and tense. But, for an entirely different reason than the greaser king thought. One thing that he didn't know about this situation was that he was just where his opponent wanted him: holding his head high, waiting for him to strike. He was expecting the first hits to be of little consequence. Larry, however, knew that in this fight, the first exchange of hits would either save him or sign his doom.

So, he struck. Quickly and unceremoniously.

Larry's swift right punch was blocked with little effort, but that was okay: his movement switched from the punch into a sharp knee kick, flying straight at his adversary's chest and chin. Johnny's arms were up protecting his face and his elbows obstructed the trajectory the kick, but the damage was done. The kick not only hurt despite not being a clean hit, it distracted Johnny from what Larry was preparing to do with his arms. With his hands clutched firmly together and raised over his head, he swung his arms downwards as if holding an ax, his fists connecting with the back of Johnny's head.

Cha-ching! Larry had just earned his ten bucks.

The greaser king lay in the trampled snow, face down. The townies were cheering wildly around the two boys, but neither noticed it – they were both dazed. Despite his best efforts, Larry had mistakenly given himself leeway: now was the time to attack, not gawk at your opponent while he was down! He inhaled sharply and swung his leg hastily, aiming the tip of his shoe at Johnny's ribs.

To his surprise, only a fraction of the momentum was transferred to its intended target. The kick connected, but poorly: most of its power went to waste and only managed to scatter some snow around. Johnny had rolled away from harm's way and was now getting up.

The greaser king wedged a knee between him and the ground, then pushed his torso up from the snow with his arms. Upon looking up, he saw Larry, lunging towards him, but luckily for him, he was able to mobilize himself. He propelled himself forward, finding his legs on the fly, and staggered away flimsily as another one of Larry's kicks missed by a hair's breadth.

Both boys halted for a moment, Larry knowing that he had messed up and trying to come up with a plan B and Johnny processing what he had just witnessed. When the ex-greaser looked at his old friend, he acknowledged that his worst fears were coming to be.

The king was pissed off and about to open a can of whoop-ass.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Johnny's fight in the game was pretty pathetic if you ask me, but then again, Jimmy Hopkins is some kind of superhuman whose only kryptonite factor is the plot. Anyway, I assume Johnny's a legitimate threat to most other characters in the game.


	18. Slipping into Madness

**Disclaimer:** Powerful punches aimed at someone's temple can rattle their brain and cause permanent damage: _don't go knocking out people for funzies.__  
_

So yeah, more fighting :3

* * *

**Chapter 18: Slipping into Madness**

Incredibly few people in Bullworth were "nice". Almost everyone had a mean streak somewhere and whether it was physical or emotional, nearly every soul in that town had a soft spot for violence. This also held true to the greasers. Beating up other kids for money or just for the giggles, harassing girls, destroying public property – none of these activities were beyond the moody young men in leather jackets. Neither was cheering and whistling wildly when two of their friends, almost brothers, where beating the living crap out of each other. This time, it was a fight between two able, consenting parties, so they had a passable excuse.

As the voices of the greasers and the townies pounded against his eardrums and Johnny pounded against his defenses with a mad flurry of punches, Larry was experiencing sensory overload. He desperately tried to keep his distance while dodging attacks right and left, but there was no way to avoid all of them. Furthermore, landing an attack of his own was near impossible: both boys knew that if Johnny managed to grapple Larry and push him in the ground, it was all over. As things were now, Johnny was waiting for an opportunity to do just that so he tried to egg Larry into doing something careless.

Even in the dire situation he was in, Larry tried to soothe his mind and think of something, fast. Was there anything super dramatic he could say to make Johnny drop his guard, like in the movies? Wasn't there any kind of miracle knockout punch he could try? What on earth could he do? Johnny just kept attacking, and although very few of his hits were clean, his punches and kicks hurt nevertheless and did away with the ex-greaser's remaining energy rather quickly. He was in serious trouble if he couldn't pull away, but for now, all he could do was to withstand it.

Suddenly, the opportunity to strike back presented itself. Johnny grunted as he took another spurt towards Larry and tried to hammer a punch from the side, straight into the guy's temple. But, his target lifted his arm up, taking the edge off the hit with his wrist as he backed off with a hop. Johnny faltered forwards just a bit as he did that, so there it clicked: Larry let himself loose, risking defeat with a jab at Johnny's chin. The taller boy pulled himself backwards, which is when Larry punched him in the gut. As he doubled over slightly, he huffed to keep the pain away and reached his hand towards the other boy's collar, but his victim was already too far.

Even in its enraged frenzy, Johnny's mind was able to register that this was a sight to behold. Larry must have been tempted to stick around and land a couple more hits on the expense of his stupor, but he hadn't done that. He knew of Johnny's intentions. Sharing a sober moment, the two battlers stood in the wind quietly, catching their breaths for a while. Both were trying to reach some sort of epiphany before the other, all while the crowd around them berated them for not doing anything.

Analyzing what he had seen so far, Johnny did understand something: unlike he, who had to get rid of chains and harnesses before functioning, Larry thrived in restraint. He had proved himself to be a bit difficult as an opponent, but not for the same reasons as, say, Jimmy Hopkins who had insane moves, speed, and stamina: it was closer to what made some of the preppies difficult. Preppies polished and refined their boxing moves until they were so sterile and precise it was no longer natural. As Johnny looked at Larry, his limbs retracted close to his body, which was partially sideways to expose as little of it to Johnny as possible, and his breaths almost premeditated and micromanaged, he saw some of that. Only, it wasn't refined or sterile – he was struggling.

Johnny grinned as he lunged towards Larry again, forcing the boy's self-defense system into action. As Larry pulled back his head and torso to dodge a punch, Johnny's momentum migrated to his feet. His movement changed fluidly from a punch to a kick which connected with the other boy's side. Larry winced as he stumbled sideways, but, in a fraction of a second, he also noted that Johnny's stance was flimsy and he was still reeling his other leg back. While still trying to find his own balance, he let himself tip forward and he threw a punch of his own. It was clumsy as hell, but it worked: it hit Johnny's cheek bone with a dull smack sounding in both of the boys' ears through the cheering. One hell of a lucky punch.

Larry inhaled sharply as his mind caught on and realized he was in the danger zone with his guard lowered again. This time Johnny's hands weren't reaching for him as he scrambled backwards, however. The greaser king shook his head and took a moment to rub his injured cheek, glaring at his old friend while the townies called him names from the sidelines. He was starting to look scary even to Larry, who had seen some of his worst moments. It was made all the more frightening by the fact that the ex-greaser was running on fumes.

Johnny was, indeed, severely annoyed. Larry was like a guard dog on a leash: not seeming to be much of a danger until you realize you've miscalculated the length of the tether. Johnny had done that three times already and he had had quite enough. No more big flashy moves and no more breaks, he decided. It was time for the endgame. When he went on the offense with his eyes burning, he slammed against Larry's defenses with the full intention to bring him down.

Larry's effort was valiant, but it was clear that he was at the end of his rope as Johnny just kept coming at him, filling the gap between them with fierce jabs. Larry deterred a sudden grab attempt with a chop, but it had been way too close to succeeding. Then, suddenly, he felt something hard driven against his temple with force that threatened to cause a familiar white flash to take over his eyes as he fell down. Johnny had succeeded in landing his fist into where it hurt – it was Larry's luck that it hadn't been any harder than it already was.

_Aww, shit_, Larry's mind echoed as his ears buzzed.

Johnny hollered victoriously as he realized he had just taken down his opponent. Without wasting time, he stomped his head and rubbed his shoe against the side of his old friend's head where he had drawn blood just a moment ago.

"Hey, whoa! That's enough, boss! That's enough!" Norton yelled, but Johnny didn't register it as he prepared for his finishing blow. Looking at its possible long-term effects, this wasn't perhaps such a great way to get rid of all that frustration and hate coursing through his system, but it was too late to do anything about it. Johnny's mind became deceptively clear and focused when he was angry: every problem he had seemed to have an easy remedy which he could distribute with his fists.

Larry grunted in pain as he was jerked up from his resting place on the snow. He didn't quite realize what was happening and he half expected it was one of the dropouts picking him up. It wasn't. As he started to hear sounds and actually tell them apart, he thought he recognized some very agitated disagreeing and someone saying "Somebody stop him!" Then, as he became more aware of his surroundings, he learned that he was being dragged from the collar of his dully orange winter jacket by Johnny.

What for, though? Was he still going to pound him? Or maybe hold him up for everyone to see how he had been beaten? Or – _oh god no. _No, no, no, no, _**NO**. _Larry realized his peril and started to flounder about, rather pathetically. He tried to plant his limbs into the ground so he could at least delay him to give time for the help he assumed he was going to get from the audience. It was for naught, though: judging from the darkness that had surrounded him, he was already away from the spotlight of the chem plant roof.

"There you go, _my old friend,_ have a nice slide!" Johnny snarled as he pushed Larry forward, towards the slippery slope ahead. As the defeated boy felt the ground tilt below him, he yelped in terror and grabbed the closest thing that his flailing hands managed to find: Johnny's leg.

Oops.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Did you see it coming?


	19. Outburst

**Author's Notes: **Y'know what's another kind of rather unpleasant behavior that is in no way beyond the greasers? Urinating in public. I occasionally see couple of 'em taking a piss at the same time near the bike garage of New Coventry. Ew.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Outburst**

Chem-O-Lot plant was a wretched, hated construction. Prior to being nearly abandoned, it had been the favorite punching bag of Bullworth's conspiracy theorists, whose clever deductions ranged from the chem plant putting something in the water to make people morally corrupt and easy to manipulate to the chem plant being a secret base belonging to extraterrestrial organisms. Sadly, there seemed to be a hint of truth in some of their theories, as one day a series of lawsuits had started to fall on the owners of the ill fated plant and, in rather shady circumstances, it had to be put to slumber. The men in tin foil hats still did a lot of guessing, but all anyone knew about what exactly happened was that a lot of money had exchanged hands to keep it hush-hush. So, it was a mystery.

Although shop teacher Neil's really wild version of the story had been pretty entertaining, most of this intrigue was pretty meaningless to Larry Romano. There was one mystifying thing about the plant that he would've wanted to know though: who had decided that the plant sorely needed a steep, poorly weather-protected slope running down from the roof? A good portion of it was sheltered from the rain and snow, but it wasn't enough – the slope was still frozen into a slippery death trap every winter. A death trap that was possibly threatening the lives of two careless youths sliding and tumbling down towards the base of the building.

The beginning of their way down was the worst because the first few lamps lighting the slope were busted, but it didn't get much better for the boys even after they were able to actually see where they were going. Not that their destination wasn't obvious: the only option they had was to go down. Johnny's accidental fall into the hole he had dug for Larry slung him into the front and loosened Larry's grip on him and the last bits of non-slippery surface before the icy slope. It was a quick and rough ride – they both hit each other and the chain link fence on the edge of the slope several times before they could see the end of it.

Johnny was the first to reach the finish line. He slammed straight into the chain link fence, although not as painfully as he could have. That wasn't all, though: just when he was about to start forcing himself to move out of the way, Larry's weight crashed into him with a loud "oof".

"Ssssssshit...", Larry hissed as the world spun around him. He immediately started groping for stable ground for support, but the first thing his hands met was far from stable.

"Gh... Get offa me!" Johnny grunted at the dead weight that was partially, but still quite heavily, on top of him.

Larry scrambled, almost falling on top of the downtrodden boy just after he had located his feet and managed to place his weight on them, and then staggered away from him. When he turned to look at Johnny, he was struggling to lift his torso from the ice and snow.

"Are you alright Johnny?" he asked with a frown and attempted to give him a hand. His efforts were met with a hostile glare.

"Back the hell off. We ain't done with the fight yet!" the greaser king growled as he forced himself to his feet. As he stumbled forwards, he lost his balance.

"Owowow, goddamn!" he yelped.

Instinctively, Larry stepped in to catch him by his shoulders before he fell into the ground. When stabilized, the greaser king pushed him off and backed away from his opponent, moving down from the beginning of the slope. Larry got the message and left his old friend be, but a sharp inhale through Johnny's teeth signaled Larry that something was wrong.

"Hey, are you okay?" the shorter boy asked, worried.

He noticed that some blood was trickling down Johnny's lip, but there was no telling if whatever was causing that was the only thing hurting him. As the leaner boy opened his mouth to form an answer, he suddenly hunched over a bit and took another hissing breath while his other hand shot behind him to apply pressure against his lower back.

"Aw, fuck! My back, I think I sprained my back...", he snarled through his clenched teeth and took a couple of painful steps to lean stiffly against the chain link fence. You could almost hear the house of cards that was Larry's mind falter and scatter as he tilted his head and looked at Johnny with a stupefied expression.

"Your, ha-ha... Your back?" he voiced incredulously. Johnny confirmed his words by trying to straighten himself, only to move his back right into the wrong angle, getting another helping of pain that forced an pathetic whimper out of him.

Right that moment, Larry started laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"What the hell are you laughin' at?" Johnny snapped, giving the moronically guffawing youngster the mother of all death glares. Larry didn't notice that though; he was too busy doubling over and shedding tears in the midst of his convulsive laughter.

"H-Hey!" Johnny tried to interrupt, but in vain.

"S-Sorry man, I just- pffffwhaha, hahahaha!" Larry answered and staggered to the same chain link fence for support.

For a moment, Johnny looked at him with all the innocent confusion of a dog with a flipped ear wondering what its owner finds so funny. But then, that confusion turned into embarrassment, and further into annoyance and anger as the mad laughter went on non-stop.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHIN' AT?" he bellowed as he lunged at Larry to tear him a new one. The two boys fell into the ground with Johnny on top, cringing at the pain that shot upwards from his lower back while he hit Larry with a barrage of hasty, hamhanded punches.

"H-hey, haha, wait! Wait! I give, I give!" the youth below voiced while trying to block the hits and to hold back his chortling.

Johnny had no intention to stop, but he really had no choice when he apparently found an even more painful angle and his body automatically jerked to avoid the hell out of being in the pose that he had just discovered.

"Ssssshit!" he hissed as he moved his hand to support his back and his other one leaned against the ground next to the still cackling Larry. Johnny gave up on hitting him and wedged himself off the guy while huffing frustratedly.

This instigated another wave of laughter in the flushed and very exhilarated Larry and Johnny would've cared a lot more about it if only he hadn't been startled by the sound of something hitting the same chain link fence he had been hurled against.

"Whoa, shit", sounded Lucky's voice as the tall auburn-haired greaser tried to struggle away from the big plastic bag he had slid down in. When he managed to pull his legs out and step away from the slope in case someone else was coming, he looked to the ground where the two boys were and wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried when he saw the other one lying on his back panting, laughing, and coughing, and the other one knelt in the snow with a face so sour it could make milk into curd.

Well, at least they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Practically nothing in the game itself suggests anything resembling what I've written about the history of the chem plant, just so you know. Remember some earlier chapter about some guys being infertile thanks to the plant? That too, although there is one woman in Bullworth that complains that she can't get preggers for whatever reason. It's just wild guessing inspired by an offhanded comment by some student at school about how there must be something in the water that makes the people of Bullworth insane (or something to that effect). I think it was Lance Jackson, actually, which makes sense because that kid is pretty darn sane compared to most people in that crazy town.


	20. Flop

**Author's Notes: **Cooldown chapter. Hope it's not too boring.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Flop**

Being not only the most mature and stable greaser but also less likely to crush anyone at the end of the icy slope than Norton or Hal were, Lucky De Luca had been pestered into sliding down to check up on Johnny and Larry. Now that he found his presence mostly unnecessary thanks to the two not making any kind of contact with each other, he wasn't sure what to do except gawk and be useless. He mentally slapped himself and decided that being quiet didn't solve anything.

"Uh, boss? Are you okay?" he harrumphed and looked at Johnny, who was standing in the snow on all fours. Larry was next to him on his back, wheezing and laughing huskily, but he decided to ignore that for a moment.

"I'm... Fine", Johnny grunted.

"He ain't. He – haha – he sprained his back", Larry revealed. With a cough, he sat up and forced himself on his feet despite them being rather wobbly. Johnny hemmed.

"... I bit my lip too", the greaser king grudgingly admitted and spat some blood on the snow.

"You're lucky you both got off that easily, boss... That stunt was way outta control", Lucky scolded and started helping him up.

"Careful man!" Johnny whined as he was jerked up a bit too quickly for his liking.

Larry stuffed his hands into the pockets of his orange winter jacket and knitted his brows while he smiled slightly at his old friends. He was relieved. His sudden outburst of laughter had been brought by the sense of danger lifting just as much by the unfortunate hilarity of Johnny's condition and because of that outburst, it was so much easier to breathe. Easier than it had been in a very long time.

"Where are the rest?" he asked from Lucky as the taller boy was pushed away by the still frustrated Johnny, who then slowly and carefully started to stretch his back.

"Uh, Norton and the guys were still bickerin' with the townies when I left. I don't think there's gonna be a rumble, the guys didn't seem into it anymore... I guess they're comin' down on the elevator soon enough", Lucky said.

Larry nodded understandingly and then turned his head to look up, towards the roof and the dark night sky. He had calmed down and seemed completely relaxed despite having taken a grand beating just moments ago. Lucky found this somehow unsettling.

"So, uh... Are we okay now or what?" he carefully asked, peering at both Johnny and Larry. He had previously shrugged off the knowledge of Larry's, err, preferences and he had been convinced that they didn't matter to him either way, but now he realized that he really had no idea how to act naturally around him.

"I got my ten bucks when I knocked this guy off his feet... I've got no qualms", the ex-greaser stated plainly while still looking up. The sky was clear and the stars were shining, so he figured that it was going to be a rather cold night.

Johnny's attention from his sprained back faltered and his focus snapped on Larry with a scowl.

"You fought me for a few measly bucks, Peanut?" he asked with a serious voice.

"Larry, not Peanut. And yeah, pretty much", Larry responded matter-of-factly and returned his old friend's disapproving stare with a casual smirk.

"Your standards sure have gone to the shitter, _Larry_", Johnny growled, squinting his eyes.

"Heh", was all that Larry said. His expression and tone was pretty much undecipherable – there was no telling whether he even agreed with that statement or not.

When Johnny realized he probably wasn't going to get a reaction out of Larry and that he didn't really have a good reason to do that, either, he looked elsewhere. The three young men stood in silence as it started snowing – it could have been very awkward, but they were saved by faint, agitated babbling resonating from the walls of other buildings nearby. Others had come, most likely having went to the basement floors of the plant and trekked through the corridors to some of the ground level exits of the neighboring facilities. When the rest of the greasers, escorted by a good lot of the townies, appeared from behind the corner of the building ahead, Johnny straightened himself to face Edgar Munsen, who lead the troop.

"Allrighty then. Vincent, you've had your fun and your bitches seem to agree on leavin'. How about you all take a hike?" the dark Hispanic youth drawled.

"... We got no business with you losers, so I guess we will", Johnny hemmed, readying himself to leave. Edgar nodded at him and then turned his attention to Larry instead.

"Yo, you better get back to work", he said.

"What's the time?" Larry asked as he walked around the chain link fences that separated him and the crowd. Edgar dug his cell phone out of his pocket and peered at the screen.

"It's... Oh, shit. There's only some fifteen minutes left of your shift. I guess they're gonna be mad at ya whether you go back or not", he tutted.

"Figures", Larry mumbled. Upon hearing the bad news he glanced over his shoulder, almost as if to check whether Johnny was still present or not. Well, he was, since the only way out of the chem plant's yard was the one Larry was walking through. Edgar saw that meaningful look and cocked his brow.

"Goin' home then?" he asked, or suggested.

"I guess so."

Edgar sniveled and looked around him. The greasers gave him annoyed glares and the townies seemed very uninterested now that there wasn't any promise of a fight.

"While you're at it, escort these ladies off our turf, will ya?" he said gruffly and pointed his thumb at the greasers, inciting some scoffing snorts in both the townies and the greasers.

"Uh, okay", Larry said without thinking.

"Duncan and Leon, go with him", Edgar said and started to walk back to where he had come from. Other townies followed suit without a word, all except Duncan, a relatively short guy with a fauxhawk, and Leon, a dark-skinned tall townie kid.

"Aw, shucks", Leon whined and glanced at the greasers. They were making him sort of nervous.

"You said it bro", grumbled Duncan.

Larry, strangely, didn't have any gripes. In fact, he didn't feel anything in particular despite just having had a clash with his old friend. Maybe he had finally gotten over Johnny, he figured.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I owe a lot to people who have uploaded videos of Bully on YouTube. Makes it easier to check some details about the layout of different areas and such without having to dig out the game.


	21. Closing Distances

**Chapter 21: Closing Distances  
**

In the end, despite Johnny disagreeing with being escorted, the truth was that he had sprained his back and wasn't at all that sure if he could ride his bicycle. So, to excuse himself he had decided that to avoid looking like dogs who ran away with their tail between their legs, the greasers would casually walk their bicycles out of Blue Skies with or without escorts. Very few actually had cared about appearances at that point, but the rest of the greasers had gone with it regardless. Nobody felt like arguing with Johnny.

As the greaser pack walked towards the trailer park with the two townies following closely behind, Duncan found that there was something about what he saw that was a bit … off. Larry had gone to talk with Norton and things had been normal, up until Johnny had exchanged a few words with him. The big black greaser had squirmed his out of the discussion and, for some reason, every other greaser started to distance themselves from the two. There was something about their stern inhibition, stifled whispers, and cautious, expectant glances at Johnny and Larry that was awfully familiar to Duncan.

"How's your sister?" Johnny harrumphed, breaking the silence between him and his escort, who had suddenly gone quiet with the absence of Norton.

"She got engaged recently", the ex-greaser responded somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh", Larry said, his expression turning awfully worried for some reason.

"... What, is the guy a douche or somethin'?" Johnny asked.

Larry looked at him and knit his brow, wondering why he was suddenly insisting on having a conversation with him. Not that it was a bad thing, it was just a strange contrast to how he had been at the chem plant. He hadn't seemed to want to breathe the same air as he did, much less casually discuss anything with him.

"Naw. Just that she's lookin' for a new place now, to move in with his fiancée and stuff. That means I gotta save money for a place of my own", he muttered, swiping his nose with his hand.

"Oh" Johnny said plainly.

The silence returned. Larry had no qualms about it, but apparently Johnny did.

"So. What're you doin', hangin' around with dropout scum?" he asked, almost succeeding at sounding nonchalant.

Larry rolled his eyes. Typical Johnny subtlety right there.

"I'm here because of my job, man", he snorted, "Besides, what does it matter who I hang around with?"

"Not cool man. They're all crazies and junkies. The worst of the worst", Johnny said, bitterly.

"What're you, my mother? They ain't that bad. And even if they were I'm not turnin' into one of 'em just by bein' around 'em", Larry grumbled. Johnny cocked his brow and looked at his orange coat and punk-ish jeans suspiciously.

"Have some fuckin' class man", Johnny hemmed, although he had to admit that Larry's current attire suited him relatively well.

"Tsch. You have no idea how privileged you are, bein' able to say that. You can afford bein' picky", Larry retorted, but not too meanly.

"Well, so can _you_, apparently", Johnny said darkly.

Larry was about to make a counterargument, but he halted. On the other hand, his avoidance of his old friends had reasons that had relatively little to do with him simply not _wanting_ to be with them, but... Touché?

"... Whatever man. You gotta do what you gotta do to get by, and here that means bein' buddies with Edgar. Turnin' 18 means no more child support from my old man and step-dad is gonna pull the plug too. I'll be lucky to get an embarrassing sweater from my mom once every few years when that happens. I need this job", Larry muttered.

He really wanted to change the subject. When you want to do that with Johnny, there was only one sure-fire way of doing it, although Larry didn't want to use it.

"How's Lola?" he asked, reluctantly.

"Haven'tcha heard the rumors?" Johnny asked with an almost scolding tone.

"Johnny, rumors are just that: rumors. I don't care about 'em."

That was a lie, sort of. He did enjoy hearing rumors and even eavesdropping for some juicy ones, but he had an aversion towards certain _kinds_ of rumors. Like, rumors that had anything to do with Lola.

"Well, there's one thing that's true. She won't speak to me, at all. She hardly comes outta the girls' dorm anymore unless it's for classes", Johnny told.

Larry almost froze. He had heard _something _to that effect, but he had made a conscious effort not to think about it. Furthermore, he simply had written the rumor off as untrue.

"That... That sounds pretty serious, Johnny", he said. He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting worried about Lola. Staying inside four walls all day was very unlike her.

"I know, right? I've thought about breakin' into the girls' dorm just to see if she's okay", Johnny mused.

Larry opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly his words stuck to his throat. He realized that, just then, he had thought about suggesting that he himself should try to talk to her. He was falling back to his old habit of taking all of Johnny's and Lola's problems upon himself despite having sworn not to ever do it again. He shuddered; he couldn't let that happen, not now. Not ever.

"Uhm... Oh hey, wonder why all the other guys are so far away?" Larry suddenly prattled and stopped, looking at the greasers over the gap that they had created between them.

"Hey, guys! Pick up the pace, will ya!" he yelled with a disgruntled voice.

Johnny stopped too, and looked at Larry. He could tell that the he had just made an escape from an uncomfortable subject. He hadn't ever managed to get Lola to talk sincerely about what exactly had happened between Larry and her: she knew that Johnny didn't buy the explanation that it was all just a prank gone wrong and despite knowing that not even Johnny would let something like that slide, she had refused to tell him. "_Figure it out by yourself_" had been all she had said, even after he had gotten her very drunk. What on earth was he supposed to gather from any of this?

The rest of the walk went on with the greasers going together in a solid line and Larry and the two townies following closely behind. After crossing the bridge leading to New Coventry, all the greasers that were able mounted their bicycles and pedaled away, leaving Johnny to walk to his home, which was nearby. Leon, Duncan, and Larry were left by themselves.

"I guess I'll just go to my sister's place", Larry muttered idly. As he mounted his bicycle, Leon nodded and turned around, leaving. Duncan, however, had other thoughts.

"Hey, uh. Larry. I'm still kinda fired up and could use a walk to cool myself down. Can I come with you?" he carefully asked.

Larry looked at him inquisitively. Duncan was one of those guys that didn't care for Larry's company because they had a major grudge against Bullworth students, especially greasers, so his request was sort of surprising.

"Uh, sure. Why not?" he responded and dismounted his bicycle.

As he was bound to find out very soon, he and Duncan had a lot of things in common.


	22. Hibernating Snake

**Author's Notes: **I've never been fond of absolutely colossal fan fics, so I guess it's strange that my only fic seems to be turning into one.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Hibernating Snake**

The girls' dorm was mercifully large compared to how many girls were inhabiting it. Avoiding others was easier than, say, in the overpopulated boys' dorm, so you could be mostly by yourself. Especially if you were sharing your room with Zoe Taylor and Melody Adams and you were Lola Lombardi. Zoe was hardly ever at the dorm except when she went to sleep and Melody was, despite her strange fascination with Lola and the rest of the greasers, now terrified of her and regularly took refuge in Karen Johnson's room.

Except now, for some reason.

"Uhm, Lola...", a timid voice sounded from the doorway to the dim room, the beast's lair. Melody peeked in, waiting for the motionless lump, Lola with her blanket pulled up to her ears, to move.

"Get the hell out", she heard the cranky man-eater mutter.

"But we've... Christy said...", the short girl stammered weakly.

To her surprise, the greaser queen stirred under her covers and sat up in the middle of her sentence, her hair shaggy and face lackluster thanks to the lack of makeup. She seemed to be reaching for something.

"Get out!" she yelled and threw a hair brush at her junior.

"Yikes!" Melody squeaked and slammed the door shut, just in time to avoid her accurate throw.

Now alone, Lola turned her eyes to the window, which had its blinds down but light let some light trickle through the slits. It was afternoon, probably.

"Hmm", she hummed as she pressed her head against her pillow, not sure if afternoon was a good or bad.

It was Monday and it had been three days since she had gone outside the dorm for anything else than food. Her excuse for skipping class today? Headache. The young woman wasn't exactly sure why she was like this, but she simply didn't feel like doing anything or talking with anyone. She didn't feel good or bad – rather, she felt like nothing in particular. It had always been long, but the items on her "things I should be concerned about but I'm not" list had increased considerably. Personal hygiene was among them, she noted as she felt her forehead and concluded that it was more greased up than Vance's hair.

The most pressing matter in the girl's mind was that she was running out of plausible excuses for truancy. She had gone through a lot of diseases she could fake and almost all the humane errors that she could get away with. Unfortunately, menstruation pains weren't a viable excuse for at least one week – Mrs. Peabody, that old bat, kept track of the girls' cycles and would actually check if there was any truth to claims that you were early. She also made an embarrassing example of anyone who tried to fool her. It was remarkable that a person so unlike Mr. Burton could be creepy for similar reasons.

Suddenly, the door opened with a creak. Was it the old stalker herself?

"Oh for fuck's sake Lola", a much disgruntled redhead said.

"Leave me alone, dropout", Lola hemmed, annoyed that Melody had probably snitched on her.

"Oh gee, look who's talking. You're gonna be a dropout for much better reasons than I was if you keep this up", Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

"Did you come all the way here to tell me that? Great, thanks for the heads up: now leave", Lola mumbled with a low, monotonous voice and turned to her side so she didn't see her roommate.

"Oh god, you're such a... Listen, you PMS'ing bitch: I really do get that we don't get along, but there's no fucking reason to be mean at Mel. Chris and Angie made some cookies in home economics and they're sharing them downstairs, Mel was just gonna ask you if you wanted some", Zoe told, trying to be patient with her aggravator.

"Well I don't want any. Ta-ta."

Zoe's already deep frown intensified and the edge of her mouth twisted in disapproval.

"Y'know what? No. For being such a bitch for no reason, you're gonna get up, have a fucking shower, put something on, and come downstairs", she announced and stomped to the window, opening the blinds.

It was too much of a hassle to oppose Zoe now that she was fired up, so Lola ended up doing what she had been told. The two girls were always bouncing off of each other for one reason or another when they were sharing the same air: Zoe couldn't stand the way Lola seemed to have the distinct personality of a vacuum without her countless boyfriends and Lola was annoyed that Zoe needed to be so damn ~*uñîQüe*~ and absolutely self-sufficient at all times. Yeah, Lola realized she was fake and reliant on being able to leech off of others, so what? She didn't see how Zoe was any more of a closed ecosystem than she was – in her opinion she just tried a lot harder. Way too hard.

On the other hand, because Zoe was such a hard worker, Lola was now walking down the stairs, feeling somewhat refreshed and more energized after a long, hot shower. Not that she'd admit it to the girl in question, though. As she laid her eyes on her fellow female students, gathered around the table in the first floor, her face was blank like it usually was when there was nobody to impress.

"You sure took your time", Zoe hemmed when she saw the shaggy-haired brunette, making her the center of attention. Lola's sight panned across the room as she stepped down, her pouty lips tightening into a thin line. Christy, Angie, Zoe, Karen, Gloria, and Melody were present. Mandy was probably with the jocks and Beatrice was most likely in the library. Lola had no idea where Eunice or Pinky could've been and she didn't care.

"Better come have some cookies before fatso smells them", Christy chuckled, biting into a chocolate chip cookie.

"Oh c'mon Christy. Don't be mean", Angie pleaded, but she giggled at Eunice's expense too. Gloria rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut about insulting the plump girl, for once.

Lola shrugged and walked to the table, taking one cookie and leaving the table in favor of sitting cozily on the sofa that was nearby.

"So, anyway. Did you hear? There was another nerd fight. I heard that Bucky's hand got, like, totally busted", Christy gossiped enthusiastically.

"Uh... Beatrice said he just got a minor burn from the bottle rocket", Gloria corrected.

"Like I said, totally busted. And I bet Bea gave him some 'tender, loving care' too, if you know what I mean", Christy continued. Some giggles and snorts came from all around. Gloria wasn't amused, however. Then again, she rarely was.

"Oh yeah, and I heard from Wade who heard it from Jimmy who heard it from one of the townies that the greasers broke into the chem plant again on Saturday", the dainty redhead told.

Lola, who was otherwise completely uninterested in whatever spouted from Christy Martin's mouth, perked upon the mention of her fellow greasers.

"Yeah, I heard about it on Sunday. The guys were pretty pissed off", Zoe commented, referring to her townie friends.

"What were they doing there? Not sabotaging the already volatile behemoth, I hope", Gloria asked with concern.

"I heard they had a fight against the townies. Like, a big one. Get this: Peanut really is with the dropouts and he fought against Johnny Vincent but they fell off the roof", Christy answered.

Suddenly, Lola's eyes shot open and she turned to look directly at Christy.

"What", she asked flatly, "did you say?"

"Like I said, they fell off the roof", Christy said proudly, as if it had been her accomplishment somehow.

"No! Before that!" Lola snapped.

"I said that Johnny and Peanut had a fight. It was a big one, apparently! I wish I had seen it", Christy sighed.

The girls were all looking at Lola, whose eyes seemed to have fired up. They weren't sure how or why, but that piece of news had apparently sparked life into her engines.

"Typical. Fucking typical", the greaser queen snarled venomously and stood up, storming straight into her room upstairs.

The other girls were left staring at where she had disappeared, some with their mouth open. Nobody quite understood why any of that had happened.

"I wonder if I should go tell her that they didn't actually fall down from the roof", Zoe pondered.

Lola would've probably been more at ease if they really had fallen, though.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Make no mistake, I do like Zoe. But, my favorite female student? Christy. Oh, Christy, how I love your gossiping and school-burning silliness!


	23. Lingering Doubts

**Chapter 23: Lingering Doubts**

Like many of the greasers of Bullworth Academy, Lola Lombardi had a less than ideal family background. Her father was unknown and her mother, who had run away from home and cut all family ties, had been a mere teenager when she had given birth to her. The young mother had tried her best in her own way, but she had managed to get killed in a car accident with her drunk boyfriend when her daughter had been seven years of age.

Lola's current legal guardian was her grandmother: a conservative, religious lady who had vowed to bring Lola up into a proper lady, to make up for the mistakes she had done with Lola's mother. It was clear that she was losing the fight, but she accepted no sympathies – the stubborn old soul refused to accept defeat. Never mind that the voluptuous girl loved to prove her efforts futile and she had already had to send Lola into a boarding school because she had almost caused her guardian to have a nervous breakdown. And now, it was time to give her a new wrinkle.

"Hello boys. Where's Johnny?" Lola greeted her fellow greasers.

Everyone seemed startled and no wonder, really, because she had just opened the door to the auto shop class with such force that it slammed against the wall. Not to mention that actually being face to face with Lola had become about as likely as seeing jocks do their own homework.

"He's, um. He and Norton are serving detention outside", answered Vance.

"And, where would that be?" Lola inquired with a chuckle, her arms akimbo and her torso bending down slightly so her cleavage was showing. The baffled young men looked at her and each other for a moment before someone managed to come up with an answer.

"At the library, I think", Ricky said.

"Thanks. See ya!" Lola said cheerily and was about to leave.

"Hey, whoa, slow down girl! Are you, er, okay and stuff?" Lucky asked, concerned.

"Yeah, you've lost some weight lately", Hal chimed in, sounding somehow disappointed.

"Oh, don't you boys worry about me, I'm fine! Ciao!", Lola giggled with a wink before she turned around and closed the door.

Many of the greasers shuddered. Not only because Lola had let some more cold air inside, but also because there was something off about the greaser queen's tone of voice.

"Wonder if Johnny's finally gonna get some tonight", Lefty pondered idly while going through the contents of a tool trolley.

"Looks like it. Maybe he'll chill out a bit – the guy's a trooper but there's only so much a guy can take", Ricky chortled.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't ya Ricky. Not gettin' enough", Vance said with a smug grin as his brows twitched suggestively.

"Shut it Vance!" the lean brunette lashed back. When he hear other greasers snorting at him, he pouted a bit and Vance had to stifle a laugh.

Ricky and Vance were very different kinds of people and tended to bounce off of each other. Hardly ever violently, though. Ricky was gullible and clumsy when it came to girls, plus he was a boy-next-door type of young man and rather squeamish when it came to sexual orientations beyond heterosexuality, so he was an endless source of entertainment to the more suave, pimp, and very much bisexual Vance. The short redhead, on the other hand, wasn't very imposing physically and was regularly outshone by Ricky's handicraft prowess.

"Y'know what guys? I'm startin' to think that maybe Lola and Johnny really do deserve each other", Hal suddenly grumbled.

"How so?" Lucky asked, curious.

"I can't help but to think that the guy's tryin' to prove somethin' with all this, I mean, that level of devotion is ridiculous. And, if he's pulled us through all this shit just to show he can do it, he deserves to have an incurable tramp like Lola for all I care", the overweight greaser said bitterly as he wiped his hands with an oil-stained rag.

"Yeah. I guess you're right, Mr. Psychologist! You were so right about Peanut, too", Lucky remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Can it already. At least I was right about their friendship bein' unnatural", Hal hemmed.

"Oy!" Vance immediately snapped, taking offense.

"Oh shut the hell up Vance, you know that's not what I meant. Keep your gay rights shit outta this", Hal retorted venomously and threw his rag on the floor in his frustration.

"I meant exactly what Ricky said; there's only so much a guy can take", Hal continued with a lower, quieter voice.

His words hung in the air like a bad smell. Nobody seemed to want to comment them. The rest of the greasers knew that it was for the best to fade into the background when Hal and Vance had an argument.

"It's been buggin' me, y'know. I really wanna talk to Peanut about this stuff in person. I wanna make some sense outta this", Vance said after an awkwardly long time.

"Good luck with that if Norton finds out. Dude's sick of this shit becoming more complicated and, to be honest, so am I – can we please fuckin' get over this whole thing about Larry?" Hal asked, leaning against a counter.

Greasers that had been left outside the conversation and tried to work on their projects had started to show signs of being very irritated, both because of Hal's cynical remarks and Vance's touchiness concerning the subject. The stocky boy glanced around him, interpreting the sullen expressions as the greasers being supportive of his views, then he cocked his brow at Vance.

"Spoken like a true friend, Hal", the redhead said coolly, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, because it's so mean to conclude that this shit is no-one else's business except Larry's and that we should shut up about it _like he himself wanted_", Hal hemmed right back at him.

"Y'know what Hal – if I go to him tomorrow and get the answers I want, I'll shut up about this forever. Deal?"

Hal's lips twitched as he bit the insides of his cheeks and pondered about that.

"Whatever. Do what you want – I won't tell Norton but if he finds out, you get no sympathies from me. Anyone else support this notion?" he asked, looking around him.

"Sure why not" was the summary of the greasers' contemporaneous mumbling and shrugging. It was settled: Vance would try to talk to Larry. Little did he know, however, that he would have to put that on hold because of some far more pressing matters.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I actually don't really like Vance. If I hear "What's the deal, pinwheel?" or "What's your tale, nightingale?" ONE, MORE, TIME... Actually, I've already swirlied him to oblivion, so I'm not sure what I'd do that'd be worse to that hair-obsessed weirdo (also a fictional character who cannot feel pain). Hmm.


	24. Daddy Issues

**Author's Note: **I have taken some time for research and to refine this fic from the very first chapters. The only major change I've done with the old chapters is that I deleted the old chapter 14: Unfinished Projects. Nothing important happened in that chapter because I decided to drop the only plot point (Lola's bicycle) that had. It did contain most of the interaction between Clint and Larry though, but that's not too important even though I thought it was pretty fun to write.

Other changes have been simple grammar correction and the like, nothing that affects the plot.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Daddy Issues**

The camaraderie of Johnny Vincent and Norton Williams went way back. When they had been little, they had possibly been the most revered duo among their peers and the most notorious duo among their peers' parents. Norton had been the muscle, Johnny had called the shots. Johnny had been the one to come up with outrageous plots and Norton had been there to hit the brakes when things had gone too hairy. Times had changed, however: despite being in the same gang and being around each other a lot, the two had found the time and space to grow apart from each other.

Maybe it was because of Lola or because they had both developed their own interests over time, but Norton didn't really get Johnny like he used to. In fact, he sometimes wondered why he still followed the guy's lead at all. But, as silly as it may sound, Johnny was like a B movie: no matter how well you tried to explain the plot and the premise, it sounded stupid yet when you actually saw it, you'd get sucked in. Johnny too had the remarkable quality of attracting people around him and making everything into a show he ran. He was a star and you had to see it to believe it.

Right now, though, Johnny was the absolute last thing Norton wanted to think about. He stood outside Blue Balls Pool Hall in the middle of a cold March night, listening to his fellow greasers' agitated argument. Ricky was shouting at Hal, Hal was threatening to kick Vance's ass, Lefty tried to calm Ricky down while still agreeing with him which annoyed Hal further, Lucky was sort of lost and his eyes were begging Norton to help. This had gone on for a while and the black youngster felt the frustration and anger build up in his head, threatening to burst out any minute. He was a time bomb, ticking away.

See, while Norton was very much an authoritative person, there was one very good reason he wasn't the leader of the greaser clique: he was no diplomat. He had no tolerance for people shouting. He could handle simple confrontations with little effort, but when conflicts became complicated and involved negotiation, there was a definite time limit after which he'd throw his hands in the air and say "Fuck it, I'll just pick a solution and force everyone to like it". Unknown to many, that was the reaction of the occasionally re-emerging seven-year-old Norton Williams, retaliating to his parents and siblings fighting.

Sadly, the time for that Norton to show his face was just about now.

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP!" the formidable youth roared. He moved in to push Hal back and practically toss the much smaller Vance away from each other, after which he stopped to glare at the startled fellow greasers. Everyone became quiet.

"I've had it with his bullshit! He's got to learn to stand on his own goddamn feet. Until he's sorted this out on his own, nobody's doin' anything. _Nobody_!" the boy hissed while taking deep breaths. His rising and falling chest and shoulders made him look larger and all the more intimidating to the other youngsters, most of whom took a step back from their lieutenant. Ricky Pucini, however, didn't.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" he hollered.

"Shut your goddamn mouth Ricky! If I see you or any single one of you goin' to him, I'll smash your teeth in, _capisce_?" Norton snarled and turned his enraged glare to his junior.

"But dude, any guy needs support when shit like this happens! We're all brothers, right? Right?" Ricky continued even though Lucky and Vance, who were just outside Norton's field of vision, were gesturing him to stop. Nobody wanted the second-in-command of the greasers to go berserk.

Norton stepped closer to the lean brunette, scowling threateningly and pointing his finger at him. With an ominously calm and collected voice, he said:

"If the guy can't understand the proper use of a goddamn rubber, I say he's deserved this shit and a lot more. We ain't his nannies and the quicker you meatheads understand that, the quicker I'll stop kickin' your asses for actin' like timid old spinsters."

Then, he turned to look at all the greasers.

"We've done enough. Now scram, all of you, unless you want me to drive a hammer into your ass sideways. Nobody speaks about this to the 'boss' tomorrow. He better pull through on his own or I'm through with him", he growled.

Hal, Lucky, Vance, Ricky, and Lefty eyeballed at each other for a moment, gauging the possibility of others resisting their common oppressor, but nobody had the balls to say or do anything. After it became clear that Norton wouldn't leave the Blue Balls Pool Hall before everyone else was gone, the lower-ranked greasers started to split into different directions. Hal stormed off into the direction of their tenement hideout, probably to calm himself down, Lucky and Lefty went to the direction of the underpass, and Ricky started marching without seeming to have a particular destination. He mostly just wanted to get away from everyone else. Vance had no idea what to do or where he wanted to go, but after receiving a warning glare from Norton, he too scurried away.

"Hey Ricky, wait up!" he yelped and ran into Ricky's direction. After catching up with him, he slowed his trot down to match his pace and took a look at the taller greaser's face to assess his mood.

"You okay?" he checked, wondering if his company was welcome.

"Who, me? I'm fine, friggin' _swell_. It's all roses 'n' rainbows!" Ricky ranted venomously, his back hunched and his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

"Hey... Dontcha worry about it. Norton's gonna come around. Johnny too", Vance comforted with a surprisingly friendly tone.

Ricky glanced at the unusually non-prickly thorn in his flesh and cocked his brow. He had assumed that the redhead had come to piss him off some more. Upon seeing that he hadn't, he let out a breath to release his tension and slowed down so he didn't seem like he was trying to shake Vance off.

"I'm sick 'n' tired of Norton shovin' us around. Startin' to remind me of my old man", the youngster said bitterly.

"Yeah? Well, me too", Vance agreed, digging his cigarettes from his pocket and lighting a smoke.

The two walked in silence for a moment, both looking nowhere and going nowhere, except forward.

"Hey, you still gonna go have that talk with Peanut? I think you better forget it until Norton cools down, just sayin'", Ricky commented.

"I guess you're right. I just hope Hal's not gonna spill the beans after tonight", Vance said with a huff of smoke. The silence returned and the two boys were immersed in thought.

Vance couldn't believe how fast the situation had changed. It had only been during the afternoon that Lola had paid the auto shop area a visit and it was now the middle of the night. Some two hours ago, the greasers had gotten the word that Johnny, who they had thought to be off having a good time with Lola, was actually smashing a bar. _Their _bar, the only place that the greasers could get liquor from. Who knew if they were welcome there anymore.

The gang had quickly dispatched to bail their leader out and had managed to do it, but with considerable damage done to the greasers' bodies and egos. Vance had a black eye and serious bruises on his knee, for instance, but poor Lefty had gotten another cut to his face from falling on top of shards from broken bottles. He could've poked his eye out with that. The greasers had also been so close to being caught by the cops that it was no laughing matter at all – they would have to keep things very hush-hush for a while.

After they had managed to throw the cops off for a loop and gotten Johnny to safety, the sobbing and raging drunk of a clique leader had told the greasers the news that had made him go berserk: Lola had gleefully told him she was _pregnant_. Whether it was because it was true or because he wanted it to be true, Johnny had insisted that it was his prior to passing out on the makeshift bed at Blue Balls Pool Hall. Everyone was thankful that he had done that, because he had been hysterical about the possibility that Lola's grandmother would force her granddaughter to get married to Johnny on the spot.

Vance was still in a shock about this, not sure what to think. It was especially jarring that Lola had simply disappeared from the bar. She, if anyone, should have known what Johnny was like when he was drunk, yet she had chosen to tell him the news at the bar. Things didn't add up.

The redhead shook his head. He had his own problems to deal with, he certainly didn't need any of this as well. What had happened to their shitty but still light-hearted and whimsical lives? Where were the greasers going?

That was a very good question considering the circumstances, actually.

"... Ricky, where _are_ we going?" Vance suddenly asked.

The two greasers came to a halt and looked around. Both had been too immersed in their thoughts to notice, but they were standing at the train tracks near the bicycle park. It was dark and cold, which made the two only feel more rotten.

"I dunno", Ricky shrugged.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. C'mon, let's head back to the campus. Maybe this crap don't seem so bad in the mornin'", Vance said, his voice far less hopeful than his words.


	25. Playing Peacemaker

**Chapter 25: Playing Peacemaker**

It had been another relatively uneventful and boring day at school for Larry Romano. There had been several rumors floating around about what the greasers had done recently, but he had decided to ignore them. No reason to mull over things that didn't concern you the least. It had become easiest to regard school the same he did the warehouse where his part-time job as a tiny insignificant link in the supply chain took place: it was just a place where he went to work and be bored until he got to go home and be bored or go to work and be exhausted and bored, but paid. It was something temporary, something he had no reason to get too involved in.

The classes he had basically loafed through that day had been art and gym. Thanks to his sister pestering him about what he was going to do after high school and encouraging him to make the most of the education he was given, he paid more attention at class and exerted slightly more effort, but not at art. Not at gym. Like Larry and many of the students at Bullworth Academy had noticed long ago, only those with natural talent in sports or artistry ever managed to get their art and gym grades up and when you had none, you might as well do squat.

Gym had been very problematic right after Larry's resignation from the greasers, though. He had had to break the usual routine that had been established long ago, namely the way teams were formed. Depending on the sport, the teams were either formed by cliques forming their own teams and non-clique students being divided between them or by only the physically more imposing cliques, which meant that jocks ultimately called the shots and both non-clique students and nerds were thrown around like hot potatoes.

It had been very awkward for Larry to suddenly be one of the undesirables. His greaser friends had taken their time to get used to it too – it had initially taken some intense death glares to remind them not to pick him out of habit. Compared to that, what happened in the locker room was simple and far less difficult than he had at first thought. All he had done was to move to a different locker. Despite now being sure he was not straight, changing in the locker room was just as mundane as it had always been. The ex-greaser sometimes wondered about that, but he had come to the conclusion that if a straight guy changed his clothes in the girls' locker room, he probably wouldn't be that excited about it after doing it for several years.

As for what came to Larry's sexual orientation... Well. By now, there was no question about it – it was guys although there had been only one who had been special. He still wasn't entirely okay with it, but he had promised to himself to try to take things as they came. One new definite problem had arisen though; should he tell his sister? His mother? Other relatives? How would they take the news? He was hopeful about his sister understanding, but the rest were one big question mark. Most probably didn't care whether he was dead or alive, much less whether he was straight or queer, but still.

With these overwhelmingly positive thoughts in mind, Larry opened the door to his sister's apartment and waltzed in, only to find his future brother-in-law, Stanley, standing in the middle of it.

"Hello Larry", he greeted with a smile.

"Oh, eh, how's it goin' Stan?" the surprised youngster asked while zipping down his winter coat.

"Hey! Don't take your coat off yet. We're gonna head out", Connie said as she poked hear head out of the toilet. Larry didn't even manage to see her before she closed the door and locked it. The boy shrugged and sat on a couch with his coat still on.

"How was school?" Stanley inquired.

"The usual", Larry responded laconically. The adult man nodded and the two became quiet.

Stanley Soon was the nephew of Mr. Oh from the Yum Yum Market. He was a nice person overall, but he was the squarest peg in the squarest of holes and possibly the most bland person Larry had ever encountered. He never had anything to discuss with him without his sister present. He did, however, somewhat understand what she saw in him, considering that this Korean-American man was very family-oriented, sensitive, and well spoken. He was passive and taciturn, but that was all well and good with Connie being active and energetic like it was going out of style. So, she would become Connie Soon sometime in the summer.

When Connie came from the bathroom, Larry looked at her expectantly.

"Get up and let's get going!" she chirped while gesturing her brother to stand up.

"Where we goin' anyway?" Larry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nowhere special. Now c'mon", the young woman giggled.

That was that. Not another word of their destination came out of her or Stanley's mouth before they were in the car. And, of course, it was a trap.

"I can't believe you sis", Larry said grumpily.

"Whaaaat?" Connie asked, feigning innocence. Stanley chuckled while he glanced at Larry, seated on the back seats, via the front mirror. Larry hemmed.

"It's been so long since we've eaten together as a family! I hear Scott's been asking about you", Connie encouraged.

"Well screw that, just thinkin' about sittin' in the same table with Harvey spoils my appetite", Larry grumbled.

Connie sighed and she suddenly became quiet. She looked outside the car and seemed to fidget a bit.

"You lucked out, because Harvey's not there. He's on a business trip", she said.

"Well good", the boy said gruffly and slumped into a more comfortable sitting position.

"Dad is", Connie continued.

Oh, what a bomb she had just dropped. Disgust and disbelief spread to Larry's face as he looked at the back of his sister's head rested against the front seat, his mouth hanging open. When Connie turned her head to take a quick look at her brother from the corner of her eye, he saw that she knew what injustice she had committed.

"You can't be serious" Larry huffed.

"I am. I'm sorry, but this means a lot to me. Dad wanted to see what kind of man I'm marrying and I want you to see him now that he's here. It's been more than a year, hasn't it? Please, at least try to be civil..." Connie pleaded tensely.

Larry shook his head and scrunched his nose. He and his father hadn't gotten along in years. Even when they had gotten along, they hadn't been very close. Neither had wanted to. Connie had always been their father's girl, so she simply could not see why things always went awry between the two. She was privileged, something that Larry wanted her to be because he wanted the best for the only relative who gave a damn about him, but he wished she could just stop trying to fix things for him.

It was then, though, that Larry had an idea. He almost shot it down the very second he got it, but it lingered. He played all the possible outcomes of it in his head and decided that while it would be mean to raise a ruckus during an occasion that clearly meant a lot to Connie, the miffed teenager decided that she was practically asking for it by deceiving him.

"I ain't promising you nothin'", the gloomy boy mumbled, going through the worst case scenarios and trying to decide whether this idea of his was worth it.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So I watched some 50's movies and movies about the 50's while I was having a break to get a clue about what the greasers of old were about. I conclude that Jim Stark from 'Rebel Without a Cause' is a goddamn pussy – who wouldn't think it's awesome to have a father who wears a frilly apron?


	26. Delusion As a Lifestyle Choice

**Chapter 26: Delusion As a Lifestyle Choice**

Connie's and Larry's mother Diane lived in the suburbs of Ramford, a bigger town neighboring Bullworth. Her current husband Harvey was a real estate broker with a pretty decent income and while he was by no means rich, the life he and his wife lead was nothing like Diane and Larry's and Connie's father had been able to provide their children in New Coventry.

When Stanley drove past the rows of identical houses and yards and located Diane's house, he parked his car in front of the white single-story house. A familiar figure stood in front of the car could be seen before the engine stopped its purring: Diane was outside, enjoying a cigarette. When her daughter and her fiancee stepped out of the vehicle, the unenthusiastic and tired-looking woman hardly managed a smile.

"Nice to see you two lovebirds", she greeted with a raspy voice and blew out a puff of smoke. Connie giggled as she went to give her mother a quick hug.

When Larry came out of the car a second later, Diane cocked her brow, then simply nodded at him while she put out her cigarette in a snow-filled flower pot that several old butts were already sticking out of.

"Joe's not here yet. Come on in and have a cup of coffee", she said and opened the door.

When they walked inside, Connie, Stanley, and Diane engaged in meaningless small talk which Larry couldn't be bothered to pay any attention to. After removing his outdoor clothes, he flopped on top of a couch and planned to stay there, watch TV, and mope.

"Aren't you gonna come drink coffee with us?" Connie asked.

"Nah, I'm good", the boy grunted. His sister shrugged, then ruffled his hair idly on her way to the kitchen.

Suddenly, Diane walked behind him. Larry could feel her staring at him, so he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Since you're here, how about doing something useful? Scott has this robot toy that stopped working... Harvey's meant to take a look at it for a while now, but he's been busy", she said seemingly casually. The demanding edge of her voice was loud and clear to Larry, however. He almost retorted disdainfully to her, but he found an ulterior motive that could make the task worthwhile: if he took his time finishing it, he wouldn't have to be around when his father arrived.

"Sure, whatever", the boy muttered. Then he stood up and made his way to his half-brother's room.

The sheer amount of stuff in Scott's room never ceased to amaze Larry. Combining all the toys he had ever had been given from the day he had born wouldn't have amounted to anything resembling the amount of toys and gadgets that this kid had. Apparently Scott had an uncle on his father's side who liked to spoil him with gifts. Sadly, having a lot of toys didn't change the fact that the 9-year-old didn't really have anyone to play with.

"Hey, Scott. Mom told you have some toy that stopped workin'?" Larry said when he stepped inside the child's room.

The boy didn't even greet his half-brother, he simply stood up and walked to his shelf. A glance over his head told Larry that he was fiddling with a plastic tank full of some sort of insects. _Gigantic_ _cockroaches._ When Scott walked up to Larry with something that resembled a robotic bug, he wasn't surprised at all: one thing about the kid that was completely nonsensical was his obsession with all kinds of weird things. Probably one of the reasons he didn't have friends.

"It just slowed down and one day it just stopped working. Can you fix it?" the boy said while staring at Larry's hands as they pressed the buttons and twisted and turned its moving parts.

"Eh, dunno what I can do with it but I'll try", Larry muttered.

Larry concluded that the only thing he could really do to the toy was to open it up and see what was inside it. Harvey's garage didn't have a screw driver small enough for the tiny screws of its plastic casing, so after a lot of swearing and coming dangerously close to cutting himself, Larry managed to unscrew them with the tip of a knife. All the while Scott stared at him silently right next to him like the creepy child that he was.

After making a haphazard diagnosis of the machine, Larry made Scott go through every electric apparel in the house until he found something that ran with a coin battery of the same size while he had a smoke outside. Then, he carefully removed the old internal battery of the toy and replaced it with a battery pilfered from Harvey's calculator. And, when he switched the toy on? Lo and behold, he had successfully made it move again. He felt somewhat proud about fixing it even though it had all been thanks to him making a lucky guess.

"There we go, done", Larry said after managing to reassemble the toy.

"Thanks uncle Larry", Scott thanked.

"Brother, Scott. We're half-brothers", the young male reminded nonchalantly. Scott looked at him with his big blue eyes, amazed as if he didn't believe him. Larry found this unsettling out so he concentrated on putting the tools away.

"What're you wearing?" Scott suddenly asked.

His brother was taken aback by the totally random question. Scott really, really creeped him out a lot of the time.

"My school uniform. Didn't have time to change before we came here", he muttered.

"Is your school nice?" Scott inquired.

"No", Larry snorted as he hunted for a tool he had dropped on the garage floor, under Harvey's car.

"Are there bullies?"

"Yeah, lots", the young man answered as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"My school has bullies too, I wish they went away. What can you do to make them leave you alone?" little Mr. Creeper asked, hopeful and wide-eyed.

"Get friends. Friends that stick up to you", Larry ordered harshly and stood up from the floor.

"What if you can't get friends?"

"Then you stop bein' such a weirdo. Nobody likes weirdos", Larry scoffed. Scott pouted at this.

"I'm not a weirdo", he said.

"Yeah, right... Look, just stop yammerin' about bugs 'n' robots shit. Makes you sound like a nerd", Larry said crankily. Scott turned his sad eyes to the ground where his feet shuffled restlessly.

Larry frowned. Looking at Scott and thinking back to what he had just said to him, something seemed to click. It was as if someone had stealthily hammered a wedge in his brain for a long time and had just now delivered the blow that finally dislodged a big chunk of his mind. It quietly shook him to the core, made him shudder.

He looked back at his years at Bullworth Academy and even his earlier years and saw it unlike he had never seen it before. He looked at it like an ancient project and he suddenly had no idea where he had been going with it. He remembered the good times he had had with the greasers, but at the same time he remembered the anguish of trying to fit in and the futility of it all.

The realization seeping into his mind him hurt him like no other: despite having had more respect for his old friends than most of humanity summed up together, his days with them had been numbered from the very beginning. He could have lived true to himself and it would've all been the same if not better, except for not having an illusion that living in the shadows without ever knowing if your friends accepted you as yourself was somehow saving his and his friends' dignity. Except now he didn't even have that illusion anymore. He hadn't saved anyone's honor.

Really, the only things that had truly kept him as Lola's toy had been his fear of losing face and the fear of being rejected by Johnny outright. Well, he had now lost his face, being the friendless no-name who had lost himself in Lola's mind games and had nothing to look forward to after high school, and he had always known that Johnny would never look his way. All that there had ever been for him to do even without Lola's "prank" had been to be left feeling undesired and become bitter about something that was beyond both boys' influence.

Looking at all this, who the hell was Larry Romano to tell a little kid that he should conform? Who was he to tell his half-brother to kill a part of himself?

"Larry?" Scott carefully prodded, snapping the older boy out of his daze. He and his half-brother had stood staring silently at each other for a while now and now it was the little one's turn to be weirded out.

Larry, left without answers and feeling like his heart had just shrunk three sizes, decided that it was time to tell Scott the biggest lie he had ever told.

"Don'tcha worry squirt. It'll get better", he assured.

"It'll get better."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **... Why do I get the feeling that the end of this chapter is what I'm telling myself about this fic? D:


	27. Coming of Age

**Chapter 27: Coming of Age**

When Larry and Scott were called to the dining room by an impatient Diane, the two left the garage without a word. The fact that they had been called meant only one thing, and that one thing made Larry a bit jittery: his biological father had arrived. When he set foot in the dining room, they saw each other. All there was to their greeting was a nod before Larry sat down and the fractured family started to eat.

Joseph Romano and his son had never been very close. Joe and Diane had married because of the accidental conception of Connie, something which turned out better than either had expected, but Larry had been more of an afterthought. Back when Larry had been very young, Joe's true passion had still been the boxing world and his son had still looked up to him, but the connection between them hadn't ever been formed. So, when Joe's passion had become directed to drinking and gambling, Larry rejected.

The most unforgivable thing Larry's father had done hadn't been that he hadn't paid him attention. No. What truly pushed the two apart had been when Joe's drinking and gambling problem had escalated which had lead to him giving up his joint ownership of Bullworth's Glass Jaw Boxing Club. It had been something he had prized beyond anything in his life, beyond his family in many ways, yet he had been so quick to give it up to the Harringtons, people he had claimed to hate more than anyone, for some quick money. And that hadn't even helped the family's situation at all, as Joe had simply played the money.

So, Joe hadn't been a very good father. Larry hadn't been a good son for the longest time, either. In his endless grudge, he had contributed to his father's problems quite a bit and he was still unable to feel remorse. Now, he wondered if the overweight middle-aged man cared about what he was going to hear and whether he should care about what he said.

Larry listened to the meaningless pleasantries tossed about in the discussion around him but not really, he was simply trying to locate a place and time in the conversation to drop the bomb on his family. Whatever convincing that Joe had needed to let Connie marry a man of Korean heritage had been apparently successful, so he figured he wouldn't exactly be stealing the show anymore.

The opportunity came when the conversation shifted into Larry's moderate success at school after leaving the greasers. Joe's inability to say anything more than a couple of nonchalantly accepting words of it created an awkward silence in the dinner table, perfect for the thus far silent Larry to butt in.

"What wouldja say if you had a gay son?" the young man asked, almost casually.

Everyone around the table stopped eating, except Scott, who didn't seem all that phased. As the seconds went by, Diane's face acquired a look of doubtful disbelief, Stanley remained surprised, and Connie's expression morphed into a manifestation of "Dude, not funny!" as she stared at her brother disapprovingly.

Joe, however? Unaffected. The silence dragged on as Larry awaited for his response.

"Son? I don't remember havin' a son", he finally said gruffly. Connie immediately shot a scolding glare at him, but the man paid little attention to it. He simply rubbed his chin, making a scritching noise with his stubble.

"I vaguely remember this kid called Larry though. Quite a nasty kid if I ever knew one – used to steal money from me and my wife's wallet, always brought us trouble, and told me to die and go to hell several times. Told me I ain't no dad of his so I believed him" he continued and turned his dark, bottomless eyes to Larry, whose eyes were just as cold as his. What he had said had been a dare, the son realized.

Larry almost asked: "What about this Larry bein' gay, then?", but he refrained. He had heard enough. So, he stood up from the table and started to walk towards the door, calmly.

"Right. Thanks for the food. I think imma go out for a walk till we leave", he said.

Diane shook her head in disbelief and leaned her forehead against her hand while Joe proceeded to not give off much of a reaction. Stanley had returned to the same wavelength as the similarly unaffected Scott, but his fiancee wasn't going to let Larry's revelation to slip by.

"Larry, wait! Stop!" she called after him and followed him to the door. The boy had already pulling his winter clothes on and there was very little that Connie could do about it. The young woman pulled her jacket on quickly and went after him, closing the door behind her as she stood on Diane's porch.

"Larry!" she called demandingly as her brother took his first steps down from the porch.

Her younger brother halted, then sighed and turned to look at her. He spread his arms as if to both shrug and to tell her to judge her. This gesture made Connie bite her lip and hesitate.

"Is it true?" she asked.

"Yup", Larry answered plainly.

"I don't mind. I'm just surprised", Connie said, sounding like she was trying to assure herself as much as her brother.

"Do you... Do you have a boyfriend?" she then asked curiously. At this, her brother winced and coughed awkwardly. This had been his greatest secret for a month or so and he hadn't really even thought of it with concrete terms like "boyfriend". He hadn't meant to, either.

"... Kinda", he said while avoiding eye contact.

"Do I know him?" she asked hopefully.

"Doubt it. It's this guy Duncan, works at Spencer Shipping", Larry said with a sniffle.

"Well that's... Nice", Connie said and stepped closer to her brother, squeezing her jacket closer to her in the cold night. She seemed worried, somehow.

"What you said happened with your friends at school – and the bullying too – did that have anything to do with this?" she asked with a more serious tone.

Larry kicked some snow with his foot as he pondered what to answer to that. It was a bit too complicated and embarrassing to tell the whole truth.

"Not really. Or, well, a lot of it happened 'cause I was afraid someone would find out so I bailed out. The bullyin' happens to everyone there, you oughta know that", he told.

Connie nodded. She seemed to accept this explanation. Good, because the last thing Larry needed was somebody to go to the school with gun ablaze, demanding gay rights or something.

"You know, I really am okay with it. I just thought I'd be able to tell if someone in the family was gay", Connie said with a new look on her face, a look of determination. Her own words from earlier must have done their job. Then, she suddenly closed the gap between her and her brother entirely and gave the surprised youngster a hug.

"I'll make sure mom and dad understand. So won't you please come back inside? Please?" she pleaded sweetly.

Larry smiled against her shoulder for a moment, but then he pulled back.

"Sorry sis. Gotta get my thoughts in order", he said.

For the next hour or so, all he did was walk the streets of suburban hell, thinking what he should do with his life, his school work, and his friends. He was bitterly disillusioned, but he also felt that he had a fresh outlook on things. He guessed that he was truly becoming a rational adult far faster than he had ever wanted.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **You remember that chapter, Closing Distances, and the end of it? ... Yeah. Since then.

Also, if you've wondered about it: yes, I'm the most boring person ever. I really am entertained by all this.


	28. Cold Shower

**Chapter 28: Cold Shower**

Dr. Crabblesnitch was a strange, strange man. Whatever traumatic past or delusions of grandeur were the cause, nobody knew, but his sharp, ever-observant eyes looked at the world where his head was: so deep in his own ass it threatened to burst out of his chest.

Most notable about him was the terrible passion with which he tried to "fix" youngsters. If one knew him as more than just a worryingly incompetent principal, you could have said with 100% certainty that he meant no harm to any of his subjects, but this didn't bring any comfort to the youngsters that were involved in his pet project. Somehow, Dr. Crabblesnitch viewed himself the most merciful and generous person on Earth because he had agreed, with a nice little funding from somewhere to sweeten the pot, to take in underprivileged students into his crapsack of a preparatory school and made them "reform" by making them work instead of paying full tuition.

April Fool's Day had just gone by and the unfortunate youths had been rounded up to clean up the mess and do other miscellaneous chores. The usual group included Troy Miller, Ethan Robinson, Davis White, Tom Gurney, Lucky De Luca, Vance Medici, Lefty Mancini, Johnny Vincent, Ricky Pucino, Norton Williams, and Larry Romano. Notably, Hal Esposito's mother actually paid the full tuition and his grades and record of misconducts were teetering on acceptable levels, so he was the only greaser who didn't attend. Zoe Taylor, also in the school because of Dr. Crabblesnitch's "mercy", was also not there because she was a girl and girls got special treatment in the academy. The others stood in a row with the rest of the losers.

Among the usual bored thugs and hooligans was one who didn't quite belong, though. Lance Jackson stood in the row, looking around nervously. Someone had gotten the bright idea to have a water balloon fight outside, as if snow fights didn't make your clothes wet enough, and somehow Lance had gotten the blame for it and was now serving detention with the underachievers and troublemakers.

Lance gulped as Dr. Crabblesnitch decided to slowly stride past the row standing in front of the school's library, scrutinizing his students with his keen brown eyes. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as he seemed to see right through the youngsters. But really, he just tried to look intimidating.

"It's been a while, hasn't it boys. Well, for your information, some of you were doing so well that I 'cut you some slack', as they say. But, you lads have been very naughty again, haven't you? It is time for you to repay this prestigious school for the trouble of keeping you in", the man stated with his clear and pompous voice. The students' faces didn't even twitch at the word "prestigious" – they had learned that the more they snickered at it, the longer they had to endure preaching.

"Ah, yes, but I don't blame you for all of it, of course. It is tragic, so tragic, that you boys had the luck of being born to such uncaring and unfit parents. Think nothing of it, boys, even you have a chance. Remember that I exist here as your dependable father figure, ready to give a helping hand whenever you might need one", the man said proudly.

Lance winced and glanced at the boys at his both sides. Did they have to listen to this all the time without even making a face? He almost felt sorry for them.

"As for you, mister Jackson. I'm disappointed, so very disappointed. You had a good record – this is going to be a nasty chink in it. What a shame! You should take a leaf out of your cousin's book", Dr. Crabblesnitch said as he stopped in front of the startled black youth, once showing again that he knew nothing of his students. Bo Jackson was a bully like the rest of them, only he was a jock and as such he could get away with it.

"Well, I will leave you to your work with our honorable prefect. Carry on, Hopkins", the man harrumphed and made his way to the parking lot where his car was ready to go.

"At ease ladies", the stout boy said gruffly as he stepped forward from the background.

"Alright, let's get this over with. Greaseballs: your turn to shovel the snow. They finally got two more shovels so there oughta be enough of them", Jimmy explained and pointed his finger at the greasers.

"Rest of you bunch are going indoors. Troy and Tom, you got the walls and bathrooms upstairs. Ethan and Davis, you have the same downstairs. Larry and Lance, you clean up the caf. After it's clean, you're gonna peel some potatoes and stuff for Edna, she said she left a note with instructions", he continued while peering at the rest.

"As for me, I'm gonna go do something that's worth my time. If you ladies slack off, I _will_ find out and I'll come kick your asses personally, so don't get any ideas", Jimmy concluded and then started walking away to the direction of the dorms. With all likelihood, he was going to go somewhere with Zoe Taylor.

The youngsters slumped, groaning and whining to themselves. Before everyone had the opportunity to scram each to their own direction, Lefty suddenly wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulders and blew some smoke from his freshly lit cigarette straight into his face.

"So what's this square doin' here anyway?" he sneered and held on as the startled Lance tried to struggle away from him.

"H-Hey! Let go!" the black youth yelped, attracting the attention of everyone who hadn't yet left.

"Guess teacher's pets ain't that precious after all", Ricky chuckled as Lefty put his cigarette between his lips, forced Lance to bend down so he could reach down and shove a helping of snow into the boy's face with his free hand.

"Cut it out!" Lance demanded. Desperate for help, he turned his eyes to Larry, who observed the situation nonchalantly.

"Hey, hey Larry! These are your friends, right? Get them off me, please!"

Larry cocked his brow and shifted his weight on his left leg.

"You heard the guy", he drawled and looked at the black-haired boy expectantly.

"Heh, what's it to ya Peanut?" Lefty teased.

It was still right about in the confides of good will, but Larry wasn't feeling lenient, not after hearing that nickname again even after all this time of saying he refused to go by it anymore. The ex-greaser stepped up unexpectedly and grabbed Lefty's collar, tearing the guy off Lance and tripping him over in the snow.

"Better cool down now, Lefty", Larry snickered.

This might not have been the smartest thing to do. The greasers, sort of remembering that there were still a couple of mildly intrigued bullies staring at the episode, became tense and shot hostile glares at Larry. No non-clique student should be allowed to mess with the greasers publicly and get away with it, even if he had been a greaser before. Johnny, who had stood further away and faced into a different direction than the rest of the greasers, suddenly walked up to Larry, staring at him threateningly with squinted eyes.

"What, you too Johnny?" Larry said, scowling.

"C'mon, this is totally unnecessary", he continued and gestured at Lefty, who was getting up and was obviously okay despite rolling around in the snow a bit.

Johnny, however, didn't back away from the staredown. Neither did Larry, to the surprise of himself as much as the others. Lefty had no reason to hassle Lance, whom Larry had confirmed to be an okay guy when they had still been in the same dorm room.

Suddenly, Johnny ended the staredown. With a quick movement he grabbed Larry's shoulder, snaked his leg behind the ex-greaser's ankles, and swept him on the ground. Then, before he could react, he sat on top of him, grabbed some snow from the ground, and covered Larry's face with it. Thanks to him being disoriented and having his eyes obstructed by the cold substance, Johnny also had the time to zip down his coat a bit and stuff a few packed clumps of snow inside it before zipping it back up.

"There, we even now?" Johnny asked from his fellow greasers crankily while still sitting on top of his squirming victim.

The lower-ranked greasers stared at him, wide-eyed, and seemed to at least have no objections. When the clique leader lifted his weight off of Larry, the boy scrambled to his feet while shaking snow down through his coat and sweater vest until they found their way out. Johnny turned his eyes back to him, making sure he wasn't going to come at him.

"L-Let's just go Lance, pronto", Larry said while shoving the fellow non-clique student towards the main building. They scurried away quickly, both avoiding eye contact with any of the greasers.

Thank god the cold snow was a good reason for Larry's face to be red – otherwise someone might have noticed that he was blushing.


	29. Pass Me the Spud Gun

**Chapter 29: Pass Me the Spud Gun**

Lance Jackson and Larry Romano had thought they got off easy, but Bullworth Academy's cafeteria was an ungodly mess when they got there. Students had started a food fight the last time people had eaten in there and while someone had made an effort to clean it up, they hadn't done a very thorough job. That someone had, in all likelihood, been Edna, who had known that Dr. Crabblesnitch's favorite students would come clean it up.

The moment the two boys started working, they fell silent. Neither had anything in particular to discuss or, rather, Lance could've thought about plenty of subject but he knew Larry wasn't the type of person to hold up a conversation with someone he considered to be a dweeb. That much he had learned from the time he had spent in the same dorm room. So, only the absolute necessities were exchanged during the task and it bugged the hell out of Lance, who was perhaps a bit of a geek, but still pretty outgoing.

Just when they had switched to peeling potatoes as they had been instructed in Edna's grimy notes, Lance was, mysteriously and unexpectedly, saved. One of the greasers waltzed into the cafeteria and straight to the corner tables where the two had dragged their tools and potatoes.

"Hey, Jackson. Beat it", Vance Medici ordered bluntly and pointed at the cafeteria exit with his thumb.

"Wha?" Lance said, baffled. Larry too cocked his brow at the redhead.

"I'm takin' over, so scram", the greaser demanded impatiently.

"But Jimmy said...", the black youngster started, but was interrupted.

"He don't care as long as the work gets done. We got it covered, you can go be square somewhere else", Vance said while shooing him off.

Lance stood up and went away without looking back, leaving a very confused Larry with the determined Vance. The shorter youth took off his leather jacket and sat down with the potatoes, willfully ignoring Larry's glare.

"What the hell, Vance?" the brunette asked.

"I came here to apologize", Vance stated and grabbed a knife to go along with the unpeeled tubers.

"What for?" Larry asked when the boy refused to elaborate without him pushing him along.

"I made Norton spill the beans. The guys know you're gay, have known for a while now", his junior confessed sternly.

Larry's jaw dropped. When his brain understood what exactly that confession entailed, he clenched his fists and, for the life of him, he couldn't decide if he wanted Vance's face to meet his potato, his knife, or _both_. He opted for throwing the sprouted, half-peeled potato which the redhead dodged with little effort. Larry might have been a good pitcher, but Vance was the greasers' dodgeball champ.

"Calm down, man!" he hissed when the older boy seemed to be reaching for another potato.

It took some serious effort, but Larry obliged by stopping in his tracks. He then took another potato, but to peel it. And peel it he did, with extreme anger was by no means the poor green spud's fault.

"Johnny doesn't know, if that's what you're worried about", Vance hemmed at his senior who looked like he was going to start ignoring him with all the might he could muster. Larry did, however, take a quick glance at Vance to ascertain that he was telling the truth, and then seemed to relax a bit before returning to the task at hand.

"How much did he spill?" he asked tensely.

"All of it, I think. And, like I said, it was my fault for bein' nosy. I'm sorry, okay?" Vance apologized.

Larry let out a sigh, his frustration apparent from it. It was true that he had come to regret leaving his friends with his tail between his legs, but he would've preferred telling them himself, if at all.

"Right", he said, tentatively accepting Vance's apology.

"So...", Vance started, again, obviously expecting Larry to carry the conversation.

"What?" Larry grunted unenthusiastically while picking up another potato.

"Why don'tcha want Johnny to know?"

"If Norton told ya everythin', you oughta know", the ex-greaser snorted.

"I wanna hear it from you, man", Vance pleaded.

Larry put his knife down and sighed.

"I didn't tell him 'cause it's embarrassing", he admitted. Vance squinted his eyes at this response.

"You think that bein' queer is embarrassing?" he asked venomously.

Annoyed at his touchiness, Larry slapped his own forehead his palm and screwed his eyes shut.

"No, it's embarrassing for _me _to be gay for _Johnny. _There are lotsa people in the world, but no, it had to be the guy who I lose to in everythin'", he grumbled.

"I guess it wouldna been so embarrassing to admit earlier, when things weren't so bad. I mean, not only did I fall for my old enemy, I friggin' let his chick walk all over me n' my dignity for a high school crush", he continued bitterly.

Vance could tell that he had mulled over this a lot and he sympathized. He held back his sassier comments and relaxed.

"So, you don't think it could be, like, anything more than a high school crush?" he asked.

"I'm tryin' not to think about it. What kinda guy would I be if I let myself pine for a straight guy whose idea of humor used to be pokin' fun at my allergies by sneakin' peanut butter into my food?"

Vance snorted, although he wasn't sure if that was supposed to be funny at all.

"So, uh... Have you been with a guy yet?" he carefully asked, steering the conversation away from Johnny.

Larry swept his mouth with his hand, partially hiding his expression as he pretended to examine a half-peeled potato.

"Kinda...", he murmured awkwardly.

"What, seriously? Who?" Vance asked, perked up by Larry's shy answer.

"It's that one townie, Duncan. Used to be one of the nerds before droppin' out, but I guess you wouldna heard of him since you came here later", the older boy reminisced.

"_Nerd_? You're goin' steady with a _nerd_?" Vance sputtered, not believing what he was hearing. Larry hated nerds!

"Who said I was goin' steady with him?" Larry asked coolly, cocking his brow at the confused redhead.

"We have a deal, that's all. A 'friends with benefits' kinda deal", the older boy continued with a shrug.

"Oh... Didn't think you'd be the type for that kinda stuff", Vance pondered aloud.

"Neither did I. Always wondered how you could call yourself a 'friend' if you were doin' the job of somebody's hand. But I guess I get it now. Sometimes you just got too much shit goin' on in your life to think about impressin' anyone, but you still kinda need someone who's got more to say to you than your hand does. In fact, I don't think I'm a relationship kinda guy at all", Larry muttered and tossed another peeled potato inside the large kettle where its brethren were waiting for it.

"... So, tried anal yet?" Vance asked with a lewd grin.

He almost gave up on waiting for an answer from the angrily glaring Larry, but then the older boy responded with a mutter:

"Yes, not that it concerns you the least."

"Heh. Cool, cool", Vance approved with a smirk.

Mercifully, he decided to leave that subject alone. The two boys were quiet for a while, so Vance finally picked up a knife and a potato and started working. After a couple of minutes of silence, however, the talkative redhead initiated another conversation.

"Listen, um... I'm sure you've noticed we're havin' some problems", he said with a cough.

"Johnny and Norton are both outta whack. Norton's bossin' us around 'cause he's angry at Johnny 'and I think Johnny suspects that we're all plottin' against him", the greaser continued sternly.

Larry shrugged at this. None of his business anymore.

"And y'know what the worst part is? Lola's preggers, apparently. From what I've seen, she's enjoyin' every minute of it", Vance told.

"She's what?" Larry snapped incredulously.

"Yeah. Told about it last month. If you heard about someone trashin' the bar, it was Johnny after Lola told him. After that, Norton started hoverin' around us like a fussy mom, tellin' that Johnny oughta deal with this all by himself", the younger boy sighed, somewhat relieved to be able to talk about this to somebody.

Larry stared at the greaser, his brows knitting closely together. He was obviously thinking feverishly about something.

"That don't sound right", he stated.

"I know! Norton's got some nerve...", Vance laughed somewhat nervously, almost starting to tell Larry about the various ways he pushed the other greasers around.

"No, not that. I meant Lola. Something's not right", Larry interrupted with a shake of his head.

"Well", Vance harrumphed, "do you think you could talk to her? I think you're the only one she and Johnny ever let come close."

"No", Larry said outright without even contemplating other options.

"Can't you at least talk to Johnny? He's in deep shit up right now, I think he'd appreciate it...", Vance pleaded desperately.

Larry squinted his eyes as took a look at Vance straight in the eye.

"Oh, I get it. You actually just came here to ask me that. Clever", he then snorted.

"No, man!" Vance whined frustratedly and ran his hand through his precious hair. The discomfort he expressed, however, spoke against his words and seemed to confirm Larry's suspicions.

"I don't wanna get involved this shit again, Vance. I admit, I probably contributed to this mess a lot, but y'know what? I've got my own problems. All I know about my future is that I need to get money before my sister moves while all I got is a shitty part-time job at a shipping company's warehouse 'n' a few connections to a _trailer park_. I came out to my parents too – take a guess how many brownie points I got from them for that!" he ranted.

Vance let out a deep, shaky sigh. A potato rolled over the edge of the table when he leaned his head against his hands.

"Okay Larry, yeah. I did come because I had somethin' more in mind. But I swear, it ain't what you think", he whimpered.

"I came here to learn", he then said, as if that would explain anything.

"Learn what?" Larry spat crankily, his patience running very thin. How goddamn hard was it to speak in full, actually informative sentences?

"How to not get where you're now. You ain't the only one with these kinda problems, y'know", the redhead continued and let his other hand drop flat on top of the table, revealing his desperation in his eyes.

"_These _kinda problems? What the hell does that...", Larry begun, at first angry at another vague answer, but then suspicion crept into his mind. When the realization hit him, he straightened his back, as if that brought more perspective to the situation, and thoughtfully crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's Ricky, ain't it? You've fallen for him" he deduced with a serious tone.

Vance nodded without looking at Larry in the eye.

"Dammit Vance", the ex-greaser sighed.

"Now that you know my secret, will ya at least reconsider talkin' to Johnny?" Vance asked hopefully.

"No. Grab that knife and peel these goddamn potatoes already", Larry answered gruffly.

"Ffff-"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Poor green _poisonous _spud that's guaranteed to create havoc in someone's bowel!


	30. When Help Doesn't Come to You

**Chapter 30: When Help Doesn't Come to You...**

Spring was in the air, sort of. It didn't cheer Larry up much as he trudged through the slush-covered school yard though. Soon the slush would be gone from Bullworth too, revealing the puke-colored dead grass underneath and the nasty old dog turds that had been encased in ice since the previous year. Why spring was so universally loved and longed for, Larry had no idea. Well, it did mean that he wouldn't have to endure Bullworth Academy much longer, provided he wouldn't have to repeat a year or anything. Also, the days were getting longer and brighter: you could actually see some sunlight in the morning before being shut inside the dingy school building for several hours.

As Larry and a couple of other students came through the main doors of their prison, they were once again greeted by a very miffed Max McTavish's threats to bust them if they didn't immediately drag their asses to their classes. Larry had to go to his locker to pick up his books first, though. Upon opening the door to his locker, a small piece of paper floated out innocently, landing right next to Larry's grimy shoes. When he crouched to pick it up, he was intrigued – who had put it inside his locker?

_Lunch break, behind the girls' dorm. Got a gig for you. Make sure nobody follows you!_

No name was given.

Well, business is business, right?

* * *

When the lunch break was initiated by the familiar ringing of bells, Larry left the main building and started walking towards the girls' dorm. He had pondered who could have left the note and the same words kept popping up in his mind: Earnest Jones, pantie raid. That would've explained the paranoia implied by the note, at least. Really, who would follow Larry around now that even the vindictive Tad Spencer wasn't the least bit interested?

Alas, when he went around the corner of the dorm building, the figure he saw standing on a garbage container and looking inside a window did not belong to the head of the nerd clique.

"J-Johnny!"

Johnny Vincent was startled by the sudden noise so he stumbled as he turned around, almost slipping and falling. When he found his balance again, he tried to play it off coolly but yeah, it was obvious that he had nearly found himself lying in the wet snow below.

"Larry. Finally", he said while clearing his throat, "Did anyone follow you?"

"Jeez, of course not!" Larry snapped.

"You sure?" the clique leader double-checked.

If only looks could kill.

"Alright, alright, just checkin'", Johnny grunted while making his way down from the container. When he hit the ground and stood up stiffly, his eyes met with Larry's demanding scowl.

"Wouldja mind telling me what's goin' on, Johnny? Cravin' to see a pair of wrinkly saggy tits or what?" the ex-greaser asked while making a nod toward the window Johnny had been peeping through. Among male students, it was an often-lamented fact that, of all rooms possible, the only window you could reach from the heavy, unmoving garbage container offered a premium view into Mrs. Peabody's room.

"You ain't a comedian Larry, cut it out. Anyways, I need somethin' from that old hag's room and I need some help to get it", Johnny said with a serious tone of voice.

"Yeah? And what would that thing be?" Larry asked with a squint of his eyes.

"The book where that scraggly old witch keeps a record of the chicks' periods", the greaser leader stated matter-of-factly.

"The what?"

"You heard me right. I know it exists, Lola told me about it once. Anyhow, I know Vance had a talk with you so I bet you know why I need it", Johnny hemmed.

Yikes, he knew about that too? Larry started to wonder if it had been a good idea to talk to Vance at all.

"Yeah, except... Wait, if you wanna know if Lola's really pregnant or not, why don't you just use a test or somethin'?" Larry inquired, not quite following Johnny's logic.

"Y'think I haven't tried to get her to take one? You know how she's like, she keeps weaseling out", the greaser growled.

Larry was about to ask how hard it could be to just walk into a drugstore, buy a pregnancy test, and hand it over to Lola, but then he remembered that this was Johnny he was thinking about – there was no way he'd manage going into any store to buy "ladies' things". The only reason Larry himself could think about doing it was that he had done more embarrassing things for her.

"Well, if ya suspect she ain't for real, you're kinda bound to see if that's true or not, eventually", Larry grumbled and crossed his arms.

"I don't care, I hafta know now. It's buggin' the hell outta me, man. Will you help me find out?" Johnny asked, his voice desperate and hopeful at the same time.

"Why don't you ask the guys to help? It's not like I have the only workin' pair o' hands here", Larry questioned. He was very reluctant to get involved in this. He had sworn to not do that!

"Can't trust 'em, Larry. They're hidin' somethin' from me, plotting behind my back. I can't figure out what, but I think Norton's behind it", Johnny explained, starting to pace back and forth nervously.

_Hoo boy. _That was probably the reason for the note being anonymous: Johnny thinking the other greasers would have intercepted the message somehow.

"You're just bein' really paranoid again, aintcha?" Larry snorted, carefully avoiding the fact that he sort of knew what was going on.

"The hell I am! In any case, this is my chance: Peabody's havin' lunch in the caf. But, I need someone to look out for me while I deal with the locks. C'mon man, I'll pay you if that's holdin' ya back", Johnny said, stopping in his tracks and turning to fully face Larry.

His old right-hand man shuddered. Him, taking money from his old boss?

"Jeez, man! I ain't takin' money from you!"

"But you'll do it?" Johnny asked hopefully, earning a frown from Larry. On the other hand, he was feeling charitable and he had already come all the way to the dorm from the main building... Then again, busting into Mrs. Peabody's room was risky and he would be seriously going back on his will if he served as Johnny's lackey again.

"I... Sure, why not. But this ain't happenin' again, okay?" he sighed, already regretting his decision.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I, um. I know most fan fiction is about pandering to fetishes and stuff, and I respect that. That's because this fan fic does that exact same thing: it's my kind of porn. My kind of porn, however, isn't exactly what I'd call fluffy romance or celebration of sex, it's inane slice-of-life with characters struggling with large helpings of frustration and unfulfillment. I'm the kind of person who is satisfied by simply seeing people degenerate so I gravitate towards the ill and unfortunate. Can you guess why I like playing Bully in the first place?

I'm mostly unapologetic about my personal preferences, but at the same time your thoughts mean a lot to me and I dread the thought of finding out that you'd be disappointed by my fic. Therefore, you peeps deserve to know the truth: it's not my primary objective to reward characters with amounts of happiness and love that are equal to the struggling and hardships they endure. Please don't take it the wrong way if you feel duped - I haven't meant to tease you with hints of possible euphoria!


	31. Holding on to the Shortest Stick

**Chapter 31: Holding on to the Shortest Stick**

One had to wonder which of the genders really had it worse in Bullworth Academy. It was true that male students were scrutinized with more prejudice, punished with much more malice, and had the worst faculties, but on the other hand, girls had their own problems. There was an expectation that girls are always more proper, more restrained, and more obedient. One could say their own expectations concerning themselves were skewed from the inside out when they were outright coddled by the staff and the unsaid rules.

Occasionally some girls had gotten a rude awakening though. Zoe Taylor, for example. The fiery redhead had gone against Mr. Burton with the full confidence that the other teachers would back her up like they normally did, but had instead found out that her words didn't have any power against a male teacher's word. Her continuous cries for justice had been interpreted as attention-seeking rebellion, a definite no-no for girls, and she had gotten kicked out. It had taken just a few moments of Jimmy Hopkins' time to do something that Zoe had fought months for and failed.

Then again, while boys and girls had it bad, the possibility of existing outside the confines of those two genders wasn't acknowledged at all. That was Bullworth for you; everyone could get the gold medal in the oppression olympics.

In any case, as Johnny and Larry sneaked inside the girls' dorm, they made a deduction that was unfortunately common among Bullworth's male students: girls were spoiled brats. The dormitory, which was incredibly lavish and spaceous compared to the boys' dorm, did nothing to instill a mutual understanding between genders. The luxuriousness of it had been the very reason why Johnny had picked the girls' dorm as the primary target of their vandalism during the complete mayhem the year before. The decision had by _no _means been affected by the preppies having had a territorial advantage over the greasers in the Harrington house or the black eye Bif had given Johnny for the trouble of popping by.

Upon reaching Mrs. Peabody's door, Johnny gave Larry a meaningful nod as he dug out a couple of improvised tools in order to start working on the lock. Larry nodded back – both boys knew their role. Johnny needed somebody to be on guard so he could concentrate on raking the pins of the lock. So, Larry snooped around a bit, looking and listening for possible movement around the building, before settling for standing in the cross section of the hall where he had a clear view to both ground floor exits. Larry let out a short sigh as he looked over to his very concentrated partner in crime kneeling in front of the lock. What was it about this guy, really? Even after several times of mentally preparing to shoot down any kind of request involving Lola, a little convincing from Johnny had him doing this. And he was nervous and excited too, as if he hadn't done any rule-breaking in ages, which was something most Bullworth students did on regular basis.

It took some time, picking locks always did, but Johnny's deft hands solved the puzzle relatively quickly and the door opened with a click. The clique leader gestured Larry to follow him inside and closed the door behind his old lieutenant, wisely so because almost exactly afterward they heard a couple of giggling girls come inside through the main entry of the dorm. The two boys froze, listening to any hint of Mrs. Peabody returning to her room.

"Check those files on the shelf, I'll check the desk 'n' shit", Johnny said quietly after the noises of the girls faded. Larry nodded and the two started going through the old woman's belongings. Thankfully, the room was very spartan: there wasn't much stuff to inspect. Made the two boys wonder where on earth could Mr. Peabody be or whether he actually existed.

"I think I found it", Johnny soon mused as he flipped through a journal he had found from one of the drawers. Larry halted his search and walked behind the leader of the operation, peering over his shoulder to see meticulously written observations with a lot of dates and names thrown in the mix.

"Jeez, this hag's crazy. How does she know all this stuff?" Johnny pondered as he skimmed through the the girls' personal lives as they had been interpreted by a bitter old woman.

"The preppie princess needs to be escorted to the bathroom at night? Heh, I wonder what kinda splash this lil' thing would make if we took it to the boys' dorm...", Larry sneered as he read on.

"Don't even fuckin' think about it. There's stuff about my woman in here", Johnny snarled, not at all amused by the suggestion. Just to show his disapproval further, he turned so that his shoulders were blocking Larry's sight, which made the ex-greaser roll his eyes and leave him alone.

Johnny returned to the journal and hurried through the rows of text as he looked for a certain piece of information. Larry stood in wait at the door, listening for disturbances. The next sound he heard came from behind him: it was the sound of Mrs. Peabody's drawer closing.

"Okay, let's beat it", Johnny suddenly said and stepped towards the window.

"Huh?"

"I said let's go", he repeated as he flicked the latch of the window and let the cool air come inside. Larry shrugged and followed behind him.

The two boys climbed out of the window to the garbage container and started walking to the direction of the main building. Neither was exactly sure what the time was, but they assumed that the classes had just started.

"So, what didja find out?" Larry coughed.

Johnny stared to the ground ahead of him and knitted his eyebrows.

"She's had her period recently. Means that she don't have a bun in the oven, don'tcha think?" he asked gloomily.

"Well, that's good. Right?" Larry asked, not sure what to make of Johnny's sullen reaction to the news.

"But she's a liar, Larry. She's lyin' to me", the clique leader said, shaking his head.

"You're still surprised by that?"

"If I start expectin' the worst of her, _they've_ won and I've lost", Johnny grumbled.

Oh yes, the collective _them_. Had you spent any considerable amount of time with Johnny Vincent, you would've known that those mysterious people and their assumed perception of him occupied a large part of his thoughts. _They _included rich people, politicians, teachers, his legal guardians, and government officials, among others, and Johnny's opinion of _them_ was haphazardly cultivated by his auto shop teacher and father figure Neil, his friends, and his own paranoia.

"Johnny, y'don't hafta expect nothin'. Just face the goddamn facts. She's bullshitting you, and she loves it", Larry growled.

"You don't get it", Johnny said frustratedly and quickened his pace.

"I don't? Do tell me what I don't get", the ex-greaser huffed, surprising his old friend with his angry tone.

"Dude... I know she pushed your buttons. She does that to test people. I know she went too far, but you gotta understand: she's waitin' for me to snap 'n' turn against her, tell her to be a 'proper', obedient little princess. She thinks I'm like everyone else, but I ain't – I refuse to be like that", Johnny explained agitatedly.

Despair tugged at Larry's mind and soul upon hearing those words. He had gotten ballsier during his time away from this madness, but when he saw hardly anything had changed Johnny's devotion to Lola, he started losing his gall. Going against either of them by themselves was already hard because of their individual charisma, but both of them at the same time? Impossible.

Then again, Larry was a stray. He had nothing to lose.

"That's noble 'n' all, but I don't think you know what the hell you're talkin' about. She ain't testin' anyone 'cause she don't trust them. She's, like...", Larry started, then fumbling for words while waving his hand in the air as he tried to find a suitable metaphor. Johnny's patience was obviously wearing thin, so he went with the first thing that came to his mind.

"You remember that guard dog that used to be chained up at the junkyard? Remember how kids used to stand just outside its reach 'n' throw stones at it to see it snap at them? That's what's Lola's doin', Johnny. How many stones does it take until you get it?" he finally said, much to Johnny's ire.

"Shows what you know. You just don't get it – what it does to you when you get used to doubting everything. How much it takes to unlearn it. You at least have enough family to be picky about your friends, me 'n' Lola don't", Johnny said bitterly. But, he was calm, which meant that he felt completely secure about what he was saying.

Larry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment just to let that one sink in. He could have told one hell of a sob story, one about parents who ignore, drink, gamble, berate, and then disown you, but he decided that no, he wasn't up to this after all. He knew enough about Johnny's past to know that this wasn't a contest he wanted to win.

"Whatever, Johnny. Just... Keep this shit away from me. Lola made a clown outta me, I can't stand seeing you be one too", the ex-greaser said tiredly, receiving a disdainful hem from Johnny. This was the extent Larry could do without seriously angering him.

The two had arrived at the base of the stairs leading to the front doors of the main building and Larry decided to scoot past Johnny, leave him behind to his own vices. But, as he reached for the handle of the door, he halted.

"Do me a favor though... Talk to Norton. He's bein' a jerk to the guys because he's pissed off at you. The guys ain't plottin' against you as much as they're scared of both you 'n' him", he said without looking directly at Johnny. It was too bad that, because of that, he didn't see Johnny's sour expression mellow down a bit in relief upon hearing that.

"Hmm. Right. And you, keep an eye on the bulletin boards. I'm gonna go through this little gem and see what kinda funny stories I can salvage before I burn it", the clique leader said with a grin and patted the front of his leather jacket, revealing that something flat and rectangular was stuffed inside it.

Even with all the other things said just moments ago, Larry couldn't help but to chuckle at that.

"Gotcha", he said as he opened the door.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm thankful for all the reviews... I'll try to not let it go to my head :D


	32. Snake's Not Snacking

**Chapter 32: Snake's Not Snacking  
**

It was a rainy April day and Lola Lombardi's morning had gone swimmingly: she had slept through most of it. It was now lunch break so the sultry serpent was leaving the safety of her den to feed. Upon descending the stairs, she swiftly passed Angie Ng, who then turned around before her senior managed to slip away.

"Lola! Have you heard the news?" she asked, making the greaser queen slow down and stop tentatively.

"What news?" Lola asked nonchalantly, looking up at the flustered Chinese-American over her shoulder.

"Oh, it's just awful... You missed a real scandal! Someone's been spreading stuff that's probably from Mrs. Peabody's journal, mostly stuff about Pinky and Mandy!" the other girl sputtered. This piqued Lola's interest.

"Ha, serves them right... But is there anything about me?" she inquired, wondering if she should be worried.

"No, I don't think so... There were prints slipped into students' lockers and attached to the bulletin board, but the prefects and teachers have tried to confiscate them all...", Angie explained, although she was annoyed by the way Lola shrugged off Pinky's and Mandy's distress.

"So, who pulled this off?" Lola asked, turning around to fully face her junior.

"I don't know... And I'm sad to say it, but I think the staff's priorities are totally skewed! They should concentrate on catching whoever stole the journal, but they're more interested in destroying the prints...That, and everyone's on Mrs. Peabody's case! Sure, I always thought she was pretty creepy and I'm not exactly sure how legal her record-keeping was, but she doesn't deserve this!" Angie ranted with a concerned tone. Lola, however, was amused and was fighting an urge to smirk – she had always hated Mrs. Peabody.

"And poor Pinky and Mandy! I haven't seen Mandy all morning but I'm sure she's crushed, I know I would be...", the pigtailed girl continued.

Right around this point, Lola lost interest in Angie and decided it was time to go to someone who probably knew the juicier details.

"Righty-o. Angie, would you happen to know where Christy is?"

* * *

Finding Christy was no chore, neither was getting her to share what she knew about this incident. Conveniently, she even had copies of the journal that she had stashed under her shirt when the prefects had gone from class to class, telling students to empty their bags.

"It's awesome stuff, isn't it?" he redhead giggled as Lola examined the prints. She ignored most of the text for now, only looking for any kind of mention of herself before delving deeper into what other things were written there.

"I heard that Pinky and Derby immediately called their lawyers and they've been on Dr. Crabblesnitch's ass ever since... Mrs. Peabody is in soooooo much trouble, I hope she gets fired!" Christy drawled happily.

Lola concluded that there wasn't anything about her in the nefarious prints, which she found somewhat strange. If one wanted to make as big of a splash possible, one would typically include something about her – she was the girlfriend of Johnny Vincent and there must have been something worth mentioning about her in the journal, after all. The suspicious brunette started reading the text from the beginning again, this time with more thought, but she was interrupted by Christy:

"Oh, by the way, your boyfriend wants to talk to you. He was waiting for you at the caf, just so you know."

A chilling thought slithered into Lola's mind at that very moment. For a while, she pretended to be sternly focused on reading about Mandy's bulimia and STD's and Pinky's embarrassing special needs and hereditary oddities, but in reality her attention was elsewhere.

"Okay, I'm done. Thanks Christy", she said after a while, handing the papers back to the redhead.

"Nooo prob. Gotta show this to Zoe next so... Bye!", Bullworth's gossip girl said, feeling accomplished now that she had spread the word again.

Deep in thought, Lola started walking towards the main building from the fountain, which was where she had found Christy. A certain scene haunted her mind: she had teased Johnny with the pregnancy issue a few days ago and had probably gone a bit overboard. When she had playfully asked him to come up with suitable baby names, he had stormed out of the abandoned tenements, seeming angry and determined. She hadn't thought much of it then, but in hindsight...

Upon accepting the possibility that Johnny could be the perpetrator and that the truth could be out, Lola felt a surge of anxiety. Then, slowly, it was replaced with a sense of relief. She herself hadn't been all that sure where she had been going with her fake pregnancy, so letting it go was like shaking off a big weight off her shoulders. She had come up with it on a whim and it would've been exposed to Johnny eventually, unless she had gone to extreme lengths to stage it of course. It had been a dud from the very beginning.

Her social life in general had been like that for a while now: her coming up with more and more complex ploys and finding herself struggling with said ploys more than usual. She had no sense of scale or moderation anymore – it was hard for her to see if her roles had become more difficult to pull off or if she had become sloppier in the execution. Whatever was the case, it was taking its toll on her. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with it, but it was hard to just stop in the middle of something. And she, of course, always had something going on.

Excuses, excuses. Lola herself knew it was just that: an exemption for her to do what she liked without having to change her ways. But, from Lola's point of view, that was what human life seemed to be about in general – finding a comfortable lifestyle and using something, anything, as an excuse to keep it without having to give up anything or to exert any more than the minimum amount of effort. The way the greaser queen saw it, Hal Esposito didn't love food and being fat anywhere near as much as he tried to convince himself, it was just too much of a trouble to change his eating habits. Johnny hadn't continued being devoted to her because he thought so highly of her, it was just easier than admitting that he had made a bad investment. Lola's grandmother didn't believe that she had been corrupted by the devil or whatever because it was the best answer, she just couldn't handle the possibility that something like Lola and her mother had originated from her. Therefore, the only real flaw Lola was truly apologetic for was that her excuses and lies hadn't stood the test of time all that well lately.

With this in mind, the young woman's thoughtful slouch had turned into a confident stride. When she walked through one of the side doors and into the student-infested hallway, she felt herself graceful and light compared to who she saw as bumbling, awkward fools around her. The moment she saw her boyfriend, leaning against a wall right by the cafeteria entry and looking for her from the crowd with his excitingly angry and gloomy eyes, a mysterious smile tugged her lips.

"Johnny? I heard you wanted to talk", she chirped as she approached him from the side.

When Johnny turned his gaze towards her, there was hardly anything but contempt in his eyes. Under the surface, though, Lola saw his usual desperate hopefulness and somehow, it had started to feel uninviting to her. Realizing her disappointment, her smile was washed away and replaced with a blank expression.

"Figured that even a man-eater has to eat somethin' else once in a while. C'mon, let's go", he grumbled darkly and nodded towards the door before grabbing an umbrella that leaned against the wall right next to him.

As the couple faced the cold rain under the same umbrella, a few students noted that, rather uncharacteristically, neither Johnny or Lola had their arm around the other or even looked at each other as they walked.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I needed some time because I was really hung up on Johnny's and Lola's relationship and how to present it, but wait a sec... Is this seriously the first time I've actually written Johnny and Lola interacting with each other directly? I... I think it is... o_o *feels awkward*


	33. Worm Buffet

**Chapter 33: Worm Buffet**

Bullworth Academy was strange in the sense that despite being a boarding school, its gates remained open most of the time. There were reasons to this, none of them particularly good and most of which were accountable as laziness from the faculty's part, but the two biggest reasons were that:

1. If you tried to lock the gates, the locks or the gates themselves would ***inexplicably******* break... And fixing them cost money.

2. It was better for the kids to go through the gates than other routes that seemed to pop up as fast the faculty tried to block them. Some rather nasty incidents had happened in the past when kids had found their way to the ocean, the abandoned mining shafts, and Happy Volts Asylum.

So, while going outside the school premises was still technically forbidden, the rules against it were hard to enforce. In fact, prefects mostly brought justice to people going outside whenever they felt like it, to whomever they felt like it. With Jimmy Hopkins' and Peter Kowalski's reign in effect, there seemed to be a preference towards members of whichever clique that happened to be unruly.

Now, however, the gates were locked. While causing financial loss to the Gauthiers and Harringtons and dooming Mandy's teeth and stomach lining had brought Johnny Vincent the courage to face his girlfriend, it had also caused Harringtons to demand that the gates would be kept closed until the journal was to be found and all the prints of it disposed of. With heavy cussing, the greaser king had to turn back with his queen in tow.

"Now what? There's no frickin' privacy around this damn school", Johnny, the guy that had just a few hours earlier spread very private and sensitive information around like nobody's business, huffed.

"How about the basement?" Lola suggested and took a long step to avoid a puddle.

Johnny hesitated, but agreed after some consideration. While the janitor had once or twicw caught the two doing indecent things down there and Ivan Alexander sometimes used the place to take a nap, it was now possibly the best place to avoid getting caught while playing hooky. Not to mention he could just lurk there and stomp rats for a while to calm down if he lost his temper. So, just as the bells rang as a sign that classes were starting, the two greasers sneaked past the prefects and through the door facing the parking lot.

"Now tell me... Why'd you do it?" Johnny asked while pacing around the underground maze, nervously checking for any eavesdroppers. Lola rolled her eyes at his paranoia unenthusiastically and followed him until he settled down.

"Do what, Johnny?" she asked with a low voice, deciding that she wasn't going to jump into conclusions just yet: she'd have him spell out the accusations before admitting to any of them.

"Don't act innocent! I saw that old bat's journal: you ain't preggers. You lied to me", Johnny hissed, his smoldering eyes meeting Lola's.

Lola's mouth twitched but she didn't flinch, not even under the full force of her boyfriend's angry glare. She stared at him silently, not quite sure what to say.

"I want answers! And don't you even think about getting' away this time!" Johnny snapped loudly, taking a step toward her with his hands clenching into fists.

"Fine", Lola sighed, mildly amused at Johnny's attempt to intimidate her. She wasn't going anywhere, but not because she couldn't.

The girl decided that since she was in a dingy storage room, she would at least make herself more comfortable by having a smoke. So, even while confronted by the tense and mightily enraged Johnny, she sat on top of a wooden tall crate and, ever so casually, dug out her cigarettes and a lighter.

"I lied", she admitted matter-of-factly once she had taken her first drag.

"Why, why would you do that to me?" Johnny asked impatiently, desperate to find out what the hell her excuse was.

Thoughtfully, Lola clicked her tongue and bit her lower lip. With the ease of an eeny meeny miney moe, she decided to go with... The truth.

"Dunno."

Johnny's face crinkled as his mind strained to comprehend why she'd say something like that. He remained silent, almost as if to wait for any kind of sign that she was just joking. Lola, however, had no intention to deliver a punchline. So, for a while, the only sounds came from the old plumbing around them and the forgotten radio that played tired old country songs all night and day.

"Dunno? What the hell is that supposta mean?" Johnny finally asked, his voice almost failing in the middle of his question.

"It means I don't know. I guess I just... Felt like it", Lola said and pursed her lips to blow out a cloud of smoke.

Wow, it was actually kind of liberating to finally say that to his face.

Johnny's blood chilled as the empowering adrenaline seemed to vanish from his veins, leaving him with nothing but the cold and humid feeling caused by the rainy day. He had expected a heated argument, a fight where Lola would once again run him for all his money before he could make her admit the bare minimum of the things she was accused of. In a way that made Johnny feel dirty for persecuting her, no less. What he was getting now was something else and he liked it even less.

"You said you loved me. Was that a lie too?" Johnny asked miserably, his voice cracking.

Lola looked at her boyfriend quietly, not sure how to explain, or even what to explain. Technically, she hadn't ever really lied to him about that, even though she would have if it had ever become necessary.

"I don't know, Johnny", she said, almost meekly.

"What do you mean you don't know? You either are in love or you aren't!" the clique leader barked.

"Love is... Complicated", Lola shrugged.

"I don't know what you mean by it anymore", she continued.

Johnny opened his mouth and was about to say something, but all he managed to produce was a pained "...a" in the back of his throat. He went back to the drawing board with that.

Lola shook her head him. Love, huh? When was it, again, that the word had seemed to have taken a completely different meaning? Back when they had been fifteen years of age or so, Johnny had talked about love then too, but the words "I love my girlfriend" could've been easily replaced with "I love having sex regularly" and "I love looking good in front of my peers". That had been pretty easy to understand.

"I think... After I had my fun with Gord, I think you said that you loved _me_, not who I _am_. What did you mean by that?" she asked with mild curiosity, tapping the ash from the tip of her cigarette.

"It's just... Special", he articulated awkwardly. Lola, mercilessly unsatisfied with the answer, cocked her brow at him. Johnny cursed at her in his mind – he hated how vulnerable she could make him feel. He was supposed to be the guy of the relationship.

"It's... It's not about what you do. It's special 'cause you're the one doin' it. It's like you're... Family", he explained, feeling like a sappy sod for saying something like that aloud.

Lola seemed to contemplate on that, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.

"I guess I have never loved you, then. Or anybody, for that matter. I mean, I don't care about family. You should know that already", she then said with another casual shrug.

Around that moment, Johnny Vincent's heart was smashed into tiny little pieces. His head didn't register it immediately, though, so he still tried to turn things for the better.

"_Everyone_ needs a family!" he insisted.

Lola hemmed, swiping strands of hair off her forehead.

"That's so you, isn't it... So quick to assume things. Always trying to get to the bottom of things but you never accept what you find", she sighed.

"I really couldn't give a damn about family. Mine or yours."

The crushed boy exhaled brokenly and leaned against a wall, slumping against it all the while staring at Lola incredulously. He was shaken by a realization that Johnny should have come to a lot earlier: Lola hadn't ever been in denial about this issue. There was no trust he could re-establish. There hadn't ever been anything in the first place.

"S-So... Now what?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm done. Are we done? Here, that is", Lola inquired and made a hand wave gesturing towards her unlikable surroundings. She wanted to get out already. She was impressed how maturely Johnny seemed to be taking all this, she really was, but it was no fun.

Johnny turned his eyes to the cement floor, feeling varying amounts of hopeless and miserable. He was about to end the conversation, but then another question popped into his mind.

"What happened between you 'n' Larry? Why'd you mess with him?" he asked pallidly.

"Hm? You still think about that?" rang Lola's genuinely surprise voice.

"Well, he's part of my family too... Like a brother", the young man admitted bleakly.

"Pfffth. Brother? Yeah, right", Lola snickered, putting out her cigarette by smearing what was left of it against the crate she was sitting on.

"What, what do you mean?"

"He was more like your dog. A gay dog", the girl chuckled.

Lola's insolence sparked Johnny's anger once again. Was she going to dismiss everything he held dear?

"Take that back!" he growled.

"But it's true, Johnny dear! It was our little secret."

"I... But Larry's not...", Johnny stammered, annoyed at what he still perceived as a sick joke.

"Oh my, didn't you even once wonder why he suddenly lost interest in me? He found someone else... What I did was a favor to him, really. Poor thing knew he couldn't get what he wanted but stuck around anyway. It was pathetic."

The young man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. He had been suspicious about that at the time. A part of him had awaited for him to stab him in the back and take Lola away from him the moment he got the chance. But, that had never happened...

"Well, if you don't have anything to add, I'm going to go now. See you around, ex-boyfriend", Lola sighed and dropped down from the wooden crate, then started to walk towards the boiler room exit.

After Lola's foot steps faded away, Johnny was left alone in the school's storage room, staring into nothingness as he did his best to cope with all the cans of worms he had just opened.

What on earth had become of his family?

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I didn't want to just chew her up and boot her out of the story...


	34. Orphan Blues

**Chapter 34: Orphan Blues**

Johnny Vincent didn't feel like emerging from the basement of Bullworth Academy. Ever. He wondered if Dennis Luntz would mind it becoming a king's tomb. And what a suitable resting place it would be to a king like he, he thought.

His life had always been a puzzle with pieces missing. He had born to a couple who had also been partners in crime. After they got themselves some ten years in jail, he had been juggled around in "the system". It hadn't given him a very sturdy foundation and being relocated into a foster family to whom he was far more they had bargained for had done nothing to fix that. It had left him with a family that was a family only in name, until he had made greasers his new one that is.

Lola had made most of the difference. She had been a trophy wife at first, but she had become something so much more. When Johnny had really gotten to know her, she had eventually showed him a strange, dark side. She had seemed to be wrapped in the same troubles as he, but unlike him, she had carried them with incredible grace considering the circumstances. She had made it seem like nothing at all while Johnny had been an insecure clown who always had been in the middle of a performance, doing everything to impress or intimidate people around him. He had been far worse than what he had atrophied into when he had found out about Lola and Gord.

The joke had been on him, the melancholic boy guessed. Lola hadn't compensated for her insecurities with her actions, it had been just him who had possessed them in the first place. And he had been so careful about them too, pussyfooting around them and being understanding towards her poor excuses and dodgy behavior. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his insecurities, he would probably have seen the truth, that she had been guilt-tripping him with problems he had simply projected on her. Too late now.

Somehow, Johnny had wandered to the beginning of the tunnel leading to the Hole. On a whim, he decided to go to the mysterious underground hall, not caring about the rats that scampered on the filthy floor. The Hole itself was now inaccessible, or, well, you could have gone down there but you would have been drenched in filthy, cold water from the rain and melting snow that seeped through the clogged drain all too slowly. So, Johnny simply stared into the pool through the chain link cage, reminiscing.

Larry had looked pretty damn miserable back then, hadn't he? He had been really pale when he had descended to the empty pool. Even paler when he had been carried out of there by Jimmy's cronies. Johnny hadn't even helped, just watched from the sidelines. Johnny wasn't sure what to think about him being gay, if he even was that, but in the light of what Lola had said about him, it felt all the more sicker that he had beaten him up and then just gawked when he had collapsed.

In fact, disgust suddenly twisted his stomach to a knot. Pieces started to snap into place and he saw the bigger picture a little better. That gnawing feeling of insincerity he had gotten from Larry when he had told him that there had been "nothing to talk about" whenever Johnny had asked him about girls. That incredible awkwardness he had tried to hide when Johnny had told him about his and Lola's sex life that Johnny had assumed to be because Larry was Lola's ex. That total self-imposed seclusion from the greasers that had seemed like a gross overreaction.

Oh man. It had been there, right under his nose, and he hadn't figured it out. But why hadn't Larry ever made an effort to tell him or at least make some distance? Had his plan actually been to try to secretly, err, seduce Johnny instead of Lola? No, Johnny couldn't see it like that. Then again, he seemed to have an impressive track record with not seeing the truth when it was being dangled right in front of him.

Whatever the case, Johnny knew this would bug the hell out of him if he didn't figure this out. It stung, but what Lola had said had been true: far too often he had tried to find out the truth but had deluded himself even more in the process. He would try to do things differently, this time. Also, just like Larry had told him to, he'd have a talk with Norton, to make up with him and to find out what he knew.

Before doing any of that, there was something else he needed to do, though. The young man walked around the chain link cage to its opening, then reached for his left ear, detaching the earring that hung there. As he held it before his eyes, he remembered the day when Lola had persuaded him to let her pierce his ear. She had given that earring to her and he had held it ever since.

With a determined look on his face, he tossed the earring into the water. It would hopefully go down the drain, to the same place his and Lola's relationship had disappeared to.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, this turned out a bit short. This was originally part of the last chapter, but I had to crop it because it was already so long. Anyway, I think I promised to compensate for Johnny's apparent harshness and stupidity earlier in the fic so I hope I've managed to establish that Johnny was never a total dumbass, at the very least. And that while his and Lola's relationship was ill-conceived, it wasn't about Johnny being unreasonably blind and stupid and Lola being a mean slut for its own sake.


	35. Fallout

**Author's Notes:** I decided to put a reading aid for my fic in my profile so people can navigate through it more easily! Check it out, unless you don't need any help, of course!

* * *

**Chapter 35: Fallout**

Norton Williams was in pretty high spirits. Another school day had passed and he had just gotten the word that he had gotten the green light to start his demolition worker apprenticeship. He felt like he was finally going to places. So, when he was approached by his old friend Johnny outside his class, he somehow forgot that he was supposed to be angry at him.

"Hey man. We need to talk", the clique leader said with a raspy voice. Norton could tell something was up.

"Yo... Are you okay? You're lookin' kinda... I dunno", the lieutenant commented as he measured Johnny head to toe. The shorter boy nodded apathetically.

"Me 'n' Lola, we're finished for good", he said quietly.

Norton frowned and was about to remind Johnny that he had heard those words before, but then, as Johnny turned to look to the side, he noticed that his earring was gone. He practically never took it off.

"Oh... Seriously?" the black greaser confirmed. Johnny nodded again, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Well _finally_", Norton grumbled, but not too meanly. He offered a congratulating, rough nudge on the side of Johnny's arm to perk him up.

"Anyway, let's get going. I need a smoke", Johnny murmured.

* * *

When the two reached the old hobo haven and Johnny dug out his smokes, the sulky clique leader opened his mouth once more.

"I know I've been outta whack lately. Sorry man", he apologized. All his laconic underling could offer him was an understanding nod.

"But seriously. Me 'n' Lola are through. She don't want me, I know I can't have her. I shoulda listened to you guys earlier", Johnny mumbled with a cigarette between his lips, fumbling for his lighter.

"So what happened? Is she still... Y'know?" Norton inquired, trying to hide his awkwardness about the issue under his casual tone.

"She was never pregnant. She was pullin' my leg, man. Just pullin' my leg. I tell you what; I'm tired of this bullshit", Johnny responded, sounding a lot more nonchalant about this than his sobby and broken self had been just an hour ago or so.

"Alright. Good. I mean, it's not good she's bullshittin' you, but... Y'know. It's good that you see it now", Norton rambled approvingly.

The two were quiet for a while. Johnny just took calming doses of smoke in his lungs – he wasn't sure how to articulate the next thing he was going to say without sounding really, really strange. Norton, on the other hand, just couldn't think of anything appropriate to say.

"Lola said... I mean, I guess that coulda been another lie, but she said somethin' that's buggin' me. Somethin' about our Peanut bein' queer. Y'know anythin' about that?" the brunette asked, trying to play the question off coolly.

Norton swallowed, hard.

"I, uh..."

"Is it true?" Johnny hastily asked, looking worried.

"Oh man... Yeah, it's true", Norton admitted, shaking his head.

"So you knew!" Johnny yelped, sounding somehow violated. Well, it was a rather big deal, after all.

"I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, especially you! So there. But, the guys kinda know too... Sorry", Norton sputtered uncharacteristically. He didn't like promise-breaking, not a bit, so he was pretty ashamed that he had spilled the beans to the other greasers.

Johnny's already miserable expression turned all the more miserable. Peanut, Larry, his old confidante and right-hand man, was gay. And he had never noticed.

"So, _now_ do you understand why he cut out?" Norton asked, expecting Johnny to comply.

"No. I don't. Why'd he hafta leave like that? Why the hell didn't he tell me? I mean, did he think I'd kick him out? I didn't kick Vance out!" Johnny raved agitatedly.

"Hoo boy...", Norton sighed. This could be very, very awkward to explain. Lola sure had left him a nice piece of work.

"Well, he... He had a thing for ya, Johnny. He kinda thought you'd mind", he told.

"I- What? I don't mind! Havin' hots for a guy once in a while, that's totally normal", Johnny stated grumpily like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. He then proceeded to take a long drag out of his cigarette.

Meanwhile, Norton's jaw dropped open. What, exactly, could you say to something like that? Sometimes, it was just easy to forget that Johnny had never had anyone to have "the talk" with and that neither Bullworth Academy or its students were a very reliable source of information on this matter. Leaving him to make his own deductions was dangerous, obviously...

"Well, ahem. Whatever. But for your information, boss, it wasn't just about havin' the hots for somebody. I mean, the guy _liked_ you. Like, really, REALLY liked you and, well, stuff", Norton harrumphed.

Johnny cocked his brow at his friend doubtfully, but then hope was drained out of him. Norton's words had been silly, but his stern expression told him the truer tale: this was serious business. And it chilled his spine. Confused, desperate questions started to billow in his mind, but Norton wasn't going to wait for him to make sense of them.

"Y'know, I first found out when he had that thing with Mandy like, what, two years ago? Or, well, when he _tried _to have that thing with Mandy. You had been with Lola for a while then 'n' all of a sudden, he was really touchy about it. I thought it was 'cause he was jealous and couldn't score with Mandy, thought he was gonna lay his hands on Lola or somethin'. So I went to deal with it, to tell him I'd kick his ass if he tried somethin' funny, y'know?" Norton reminisced gloomily.

"He kept denyin' it and I kept hasslin' him until he just... Lost it", he continued, emphasizing his words with a wave of his hand.

"The guy broke down 'n' started sobbin' about how he had tried to make it work with Mandy but couldn't. He told me there was somethin' wrong with him 'cause he couldn't stop thinkin' about you. And that's it, really, although I didn't believe him at first", he stated, putting a deep frown on Johnny's face.

"I gotta talk to him", the brunette said with a shaky voice, putting out his cigarette.

"No, man, don't. Just don't. He's got his pride, y'know? That, and he really just wanted to get over you 'n' move on. I don't think knowin' that you know is gonna make him feel any better", Norton scolded.

"Yeah? Well, I got my pride too! He's a pal, a bro, I can't let him off thinkin' I don't accept what he is!" Johnny whined.

"But that's just the thing, boss! It's easier for him to not think about it if he thinks you don't approve. In fact, he told me he don't wanna know what you think, whatever you think about it. Just let him have it his way just this one time, okay?" the black youngster persuaded.

As usual, Johnny's childhood friend managed to make annoying amounts of sense.

"... Okay", the clique leader agreed, very grudgingly. He let out a frustrated sigh and started to leave. But then, he halted abruptly.

"Wait. What's happened with the journal thing while I've been with Lola? Are the gates still closed?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, they haven't found out who did it, but apparently they don't care that much no more. Heard that the preppie bastards whined until Crabblebitch made the janitor go through all the trash cans in case there were any more copies and he found the journal, with pages ripped out 'n' burned to ashes. That's all they cared about, apparently. So, the gates are open 'n' shit too", Norton explained with a snort.

"Whew! Well that's a relief... I guess I'm off the hook", Johnny breathed.

"Wait, was it really you who did it?" his underling questioned.

"Yeah."

"Tough, boss. Tough", Norton complimented.

"I know right?" chuckled Johnny.

With that, things between the two were pretty much okay again.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **The next few bits of the story are still disconnected and in disarray in my workshop, so if you want to have an influence on the poor impressionable me, this is the ideal time to do that with a review!


	36. Acceptable Targets

**Chapter 36: Acceptable Targets**

Hardly a few hours had passed since Johnny Vincent and Lola Lombardi had officially broken up and the clique leader was already gathering his troops. The troubled clique leader had a lot on his mind, but first things first: he needed to get back on top of his game. He needed to re-establish trust with his gang and regain lost ground. The greasers had been forced into keeping a lid on themselves thanks to Johnny's drunken rage causing havoc at their regular bar, but that was about to be put to an end.

With Norton by his side, he recruited Lucky, Lefty, and Hal from the auto shop area while Vance and Ricky were minding their business elsewhere. While Hal was either completely insensitive to the sudden change in the wind or he was simply not surprised by it at all, Lucky and Lefty looked at their leader and his lieutenant with worry and suspicion as the two appeared to the auto shop with Norton following Johnny in silent approval.

"What's the matter boys? You look like you've seen a ghost", the clique leader snorted at his henchmen before mobilizing them.

Johnny's underlings followed their leader hesitatingly until his seemingly carefree mood infected them. The greaser king joked about the hysteria that had obviously swept over the preppies earlier and traipsed towards New Coventry with such a confident strut that they forgot all else. It was a change of pace and they all wanted to welcome it without restraint.

In all truthfulness, Johnny felt awkward and fake. He wasn't okay: considering the circumstances, he was feeling unnaturally light both in mind and body. He couldn't shake the feeling that what he was going to do next was just him trying to amaze his friends with another one-man show so he could be excused wallowing in the pits again.

_I can't keep lookin' forward to lettin' myself slip_, the boy reminded himself. He needed to stay afloat. He needed to get over Lola. For real this time.

When the greasers reached their destination, Johnny swaggered right in like he owned the place. Lucky DeLuca frowned – he knew the owner of this very bar where Johnny had caused a rumble to break out and he wouldn't be too happy about the culprit returning. Or, even worse, he could be _very _happy with him returning for a free lesson in bar etiquette.

And there he was: tinkering with a broken tap. A tattooed, burly man in a leather vest with a beard and hair tied to a ponytail. He was basically a big biker viking. He was more understanding and lenient than he looked, but not much – he took no crap from anyone. He knew his share of punks, too, having been a motorcycle gang member prior to opening his own bar.

The bar was a filthy, run-down one near the Blue Skies bridge. Truckers and other workers came there from the industrial park to have a drink or a lunch and loaf around, that was its niche. During the afternoon it was mostly empty, and this one was no exception. Only a couple of regulars were lapping rancid soup in the furthest corner as Johnny stomped across the bar like a cowboy. It was his lazy, heavy footsteps that alerted the owner of the place to finally look up from his project.

"Nuh-uh, kiddo. You ain't getting' another chance. Git", the bear of a man said pre-emptively and went back to trying to fix the faucet.

"Nice to see you too, Frank!" Johnny sneered and walked up to the counter, leaning against it casually as Lucky, Lefty, Hal, and Norton spread out to do their trademark loitering around the bar while spectating the upcoming negotiation. As long as they were there, it was unlikely for Frank to try to throw Johnny out by force.

"C'mon now daddio! I came here to give my heartfelt apology, I know I did wrong!" the greaser king said with a slick, coaxing voice when Frank kept ignoring him. The man then took his eyes off his project again, only to give the boy a short, angry glare.

"Apologies dun fix no windows or taps or a regular customer's broken tail bone", the man grumbled, attempting to go back to ignoring the thorn in his flesh.

"Frankie, you gotta believe me here – it was a setup. Lola wanted to get me in trouble and she made me drink too much, I swear!" Johnny begged.

Frank rolled his eyes.

"It won't happen again! In fact, it _can't _happen again. You're lookin' at a single man, Frankie. It's over between me and that skank, we're through for good", Johnny swore, emphasizing his words with a wave of his hand.

Around and behind their leader, Lucky, Hal, and Lefty glanced at each other, confused. Then they took a look at Norton. The black youngster noticed their questioning looks and gave them a silent nod, bringing an approving smirk to his friends' faces.

Frank, however, wasn't impressed.

"'Nuffa that, kid. Lucky, wont'cha do your friend a favor and take him out before he makes a fool outta himself?" the man hemmed, glancing into Lucky's direction. The auburn-haired youngster answered with an amused shrug.

"No can do", he then said with a grin. The rest of the greasers snickered as Frank sighed and shook his head, not believing the nerve of these kids.

Suddenly, one of the men sitting in the corner ceased his dining and raised his voice.

"Hey Frankie, need help dealin' with these twerps?" he asked gruffly.

Immediately, Norton turned his attention to the corner table and tensed, popping his knuckles.

"It's okay Chuck, I've got this", Frankie assured.

"Look kids, as much as I don't give a rat's ass about who my payin' customers happen to be, you've brought me enuff trouble. The cops been havin' their eyes on me for a while now n' they had a field day when someone tattled that my bar was trashed by a riot caused by a minor. You know how much the donut munchers want this place closed so they can focus their efforts on that piece of shit bar right in front of the police station", the man ranted wearily and started wiping his counter with a rag, careful not to drop any of the tools or faucet parts sprinkled across his work space.

"Oh, I see", Johnny said with a sniffle, sounding disappointed.

"I sympathize, I really do. Since the cops are on your case... I guess you have some business you've had to put on ice for a while", he continued casually.

"Business you could use _help _for, from someone they can't trace back to ya", he added and pretended to nonchalantly pick some grime off his fingernails.

Frankie halted his chore and frowned, his eyes fixed to nothing in particular. After a moment of silence, he turned his eyes at Johnny with a scowl. It was in plain sight that careful calculations took place between his ears.

"I've got no business with a buncha snotty kids", he then hemmed, starting to make Johnny annoyed. But then:

"This is... Personal."

... The greaser king put a cork on it.

"S'my woman. Been sleepin' with another guy, she has", he harrumphed.

"Oh _gosh_, Frankie, for real? I know how you must feel – been there myself!" Johnny said, exaggeratedly aghast and sorry.

Frank sighed – how many times had he listened to this boy painstakingly sputter about his misadventures with his girlfriend, totally plastered and altering between sobbing and raging? He could have tried to sound more genuinely compassionate.

"Anyway, I know the bastard who went n' fucked her behind my back. But the thing is, I can't just beat the shit outta him – he's got friends and I can't have 'em makin' a mess of my bar", the man groused.

"Just drop a name n' me and the boys will take care of the scumbag", Johnny chuckled, happy that things were going in his favor.

Frank leaned closer, his face crinkling in disgust at the name that he was going to spit out.

"Ever heard of a dropout named Gurney?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** S'been a while, hasn't it? Had a bit of trouble figuring out a logical order for the next few bits to happen.


	37. Switzerland

**Chapter 37: Switzerland**

Another day at Bullworth Academy, another hurdle. To say that Larry was in a rotten mood would've been an understatement – the first thing in the morning he had bumped into Russell Northrop on his way to the classroom. While the gargantuan bully had been content with a "Sorry, I slipped", Larry apparently hadn't apologized loud enough because Troy Miller hadn't heard him. The livid bully had then proceeded to chase him all the way to his classroom, only giving up when he had almost ran over a cranky Dr. Slawter standing at the door.

Later, during recess, Troy had tried to set the record straight, only to be stuffed into a trash can. Alone as Larry may have been, a lone run-of-the-mill bully had nothing on an ex-greaser. Then again, a whole bunch of them did, which Wade Martin demonstrated when he came to his friend's aid. Larry had gotten pounded down like a nail, pinned into a wall for a few gut punches before the prefects had bothered showing up. Lesson learned: even though he had learned a thing or two from brawling with Clint, he still had no business flaunting it about.

Larry's day was about to get worse even after school, though. Someone was waiting for him at the gates, leaning against the brick wall and shooting death glares at any school kid daring to look at him.

"Duncan? What're you doin' here?" the brunette asked, sounding even less enthusiastic than he was. He didn't mean to take it out on the short dropout, but he was certainly not in the mood for his company.

"Tch. Dude, I need to have a word with ya. Let's get goin', I can't stand this place", Duncan huffed, hoping he wouldn't get even a glance of Davis White or other bullies.

Silently, the two started walking towards the town. Only when they were on the bridge did Duncan feel like opening his mouth again.

"Gurney got jumped on last night. Got beaten up real good", he said with a cough.

"What? By who?" Larry asked in disbelief. This wasn't just any guy they were talking about – Gurney was a big lug who reeked of trouble.

"Your old buddy Vincent and his cronies, that's who. They were waitin' for Gurney at his trailer and ambushed him", Duncan grumbled.

"Huh", was all that Larry managed to say.

"Gurney told that Vincent went on about 'keeping his dirty paws off other guys' women' or some shit", the dropout continued.

"Oh, I get it. … Wait, Gurney's seriously been bangin' Lola?" Larry said with his voice cracking, being baffled by his own deduction as soon as it came to mind.

"Who cares! What matters is that your buddies came to our turf to beat up one of our guys and your time is up", Duncan barked.

"What're you sayin'?" Larry asked, not quite following.

"I'm sayin' that you've got to pick a side and stick with it", the older boy said calmly.

"Hey, now, I thought I told you guys loud n' clear: I'm not into this gang business no more. I just wanna work at the frickin' warehouse!"

"I know, okay!" Duncan snapped angrily.

The two stopped walking for a moment and scowled at each other. The stareoff ended with the dropout sighing as he understood that this wasn't leading anywhere.

"Look dude, I'm on your side. I mean, I know right? It's hard to admit but I probably wouldn't be able to beat up the other astronomy club guys even though it's been so long", the ex-nerd said awkwardly and started to walk again, followed by a doubtful Larry.

"The thing is, though, I don't have to. Nerds got nothin' on us. But Vincent and his guys, he does", he continued.

"But I ain't a greaser no more! I don't wanna get involved with this shit", Larry growled defensively.

"I _know_", Duncan breathed frustratedly, "but really, what did you expect? You started hangin' out with us knowin' we go against Vincent from time to time. You yourself fought against him that one time – you didn't have any problems with it then."

Larry's response was something that was by now very familiar to Duncan: sour expression and hostile, impervious silence. The two walked ahead while only hearing the noise of passerby students on bicycles and the whistling of the wind playing in the structures of the bridge that they had just about crossed.

"To be honest, I think the guys have been pretty generous with ya. They've let you have time to get your bearings straight and they haven't made you do much", Duncan finally said, sick of the quietness.

"I mean, you used to be Vincent's right hand man AND you're still a student of that fuckin' school. They could be so much more anal about that. They don't get what the hell really happened with you n' Vincent either but they let it slip", he continued.

The two came to the crossroads where the two would have to go to different directions and stopped. Larry still had nothing to say, though, which further annoyed Duncan.

"Y'know, I've been pretty fuckin' sparin' with ya too. There's so much I coulda said to you about your thing with Vincent and his bitch by now. You keep sayin' what a great guy he is, but as far as I can tell he treated you like shit n' let that slut treat you even worse. Personally, I think you're as gullible as they come if you think he didn't at least have a hunch about what was happening", he spouted venomously.

"Shut your fucking mouth – you don't get it", Larry hissed harshly, anger sparking behind his dark eyes.

"Yeah? Well you ain't makin' it easy for me. You hardly talk", Duncan calmly stated, crossing his arms.

Larry hemmed and tore his eyes away from his friend. Looking into the distance, he waited for him to say his goodbyes and leave. The dropout sighed shakily, knowing that he shouldn't part ways with him when he was mad; his grudge would always outlive Duncan's and he'd be forced to be the peacemaker.

"Y'know, I really do think you're an okay guy, Larry. I wanna help you but you ain't makin' that easy for me, either. I just came to warn ya that Edgar expects you to meet him and the guys halfway in this matter. Just... Don't say I didn't warn ya", he said with a hint of desperation.

"Also, show some goddamn respect to Clint, 'cause it's thanks to him puttin' a good word for ya that the guys have been so lenient this far", added he.

_Show me some too you oaf_, the young man almost said but he bit his tongue and held it in.

"Right. See ya", Larry muttered and left towards his sister's apartment, leaving Duncan to stand alone by the intersection. The dropout shook his head once again as he turned and started walking towards New Coventry and Blue Skies.

The worst part for Duncan was, he really did care. Larry wasn't exactly his type, but he had this far been a refreshing addition to his life anyway. When talking to him, he had to dumb himself down for him just like he had to do for his dropout buddies, but not as much. The ex-nerd could actually talk about things concerning Bullworth Academy with him without the pretense that school was for losers and talking about it was for losers too. Furthermore, even though Larry hated all kinds of geeky activities, at least he could understand the concept of having a hobby that wasn't A, bashing rich people's letterboxes or B, stealing bikes.

Duncan was getting to the end of his rope, though. Larry had agreed to occasionally stay over the night at his place, but he was always so distant. For a guy so hell bent on getting over something he was incredibly blind to opportunities to do just that. The high school dropout had started to wonder if Larry had actually ever let go of any memory or sentiment or if he carried everything that life had thrown in his way, like a snail lugged its shell.

Whatever, he thought to himself bitterly – he had no problem letting go of Larry if he was going to sit on the fence with his fingers in his ears.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Ah, poor Duncan - I work with the assumption that he was the kid that Davis made to drop out of school. Actually, poor almost every character except Lefty! Gotta love a guy whose internal problems don't seem to extend beyond not having smokes, having sudden hot dog cravings, and there being so many girls but not enough time. Also, apparently there aren't enough people who have a vowel at the end of their name (what the hell?)


	38. War Games

**Chapter 38: War Games**

Finally, the greasers had a very good reason and the means to party: as of the day after they had beaten Gurney's ass, they had been welcome to Frank's bar again! Norton and Johnny were in friendly terms! There wasn't much school left until summer! Not one of the young men could remember a time when booze had tasted so good. Of course, there was also the more controversial reason why everyone was feeling well: Johnny and Lola were no longer together and it seemed that Lola had lost interest with the greasers.

While Johnny was certainly merrier than the greasers had seen him in a long time and was acting as if his breakup had been nothing, everyone could tell that he was still getting over the ordeal. The occasional wistful sigh and a longing look into the distance told the other greasers that while Johnny could make scornful comments and crude jokes about "that unfaithful whore" and his underlings were allowed to laugh at them, they weren't allowed to poke fun at Lola themselves. As a result, there was a strange air of tension and restraint surrounding the table occupied by the greasers and the random girls Lefty and Vance had picked up.

Then, sometime during the evening, Johnny found himself sitting quietly in the middle of all the laughter and buzz. He was on the prowl, stalking for a good moment. The time came just before Ricky was about to say the punchline to the very poor joke he was telling: Johnny stood up and raised his voice.

"I need some fresh air. And Vance, I need to talk to you", he interrupted, gathering strange looks as he started walking towards the door. Vance looked at his friends inquisitively and all they did was shrug at him. With an apology to his date, he followed his senior into the cool spring evening.

When Johnny stepped outside, he dug out a smoke from his pocket and lit it. As Vance scrambled through the door, already a bit intoxicated, the greaser reminisced the last day they had been made to shovel snow. As he recalled, Vance and he had called dibs on the main gate and dorm area because those were the least challenging. The redhead had worked fast, as if he had been in a hurry, so Johnny had figured Vance had wanted to be somewhere else, soon. Having felt exceptionally charitable, he had let him go and very briefly after that, Lance Jackson had passed him on his way inside the boys' dorm... It had been no coincidence.

"Vance?" Johnny harrumphed, breaking the silence.

"Yeah boss?" the redhead responded, somewhat worried about what this was about.

"You went to talk about Lola with Peanut a couple of weeks ago, didn't you?" Johnny confirmed, not realizing the usage of the moniker as he counted the weeks.

Vance gulped nervously – was the fact that Johnny knew a good thing or a bad thing?

"What else did you talk about?" Johnny asked, turning his attention from the cloudy night sky to his stout junior.

"I, uhh. We... Nothing in particular, boss. I tried askin' him some stuff but he wasn't feelin' chatty", Vance explained vaguely.

Johnny squinted his eyes at him and weighed his words.

"I know he's gay, y'know. Lola told me", he then said, hoping it would open his underling up a bit more.

"O... Oh", Vance stuttered.

"So, wouldja mind tellin' me what you talked about? Were you talkin' about me?"

The younger boy's expression became graver. He opened his mouth, but he hesitated once before any sound came out.

"I dunno if it's right for me to tell. Sorry boss", he said, taking his chances with withholding information from Johnny. After all, Larry had told him some very personal information.

"I see", Johnny murmured, giving Vance an understanding nod as he let out a puff of cigarette smoke. He didn't seem content, though.

"Do ya think it'd be a bad idea if I went to talk to him myself?" he then asked, very seriously.

Vance frowned, not exactly sure what to say. On principle, he thought that it would've been for the better if the two talked things over face-to-face. On the other hand, Larry had seemed determined to figure this out on his own and hadn't seemed even remotely prepared, emotionally or otherwise, to talk about these things with Johnny.

"I... I don't know boss, I really don't", Vance responded truthfully, arguing with himself over whether to tell his boss more or not.

"See, Peanut's... This is sort of a big deal to him, alright? It seems like a matter of pride", he said.

"Heh", Johnny suddenly chuckled, his face lighting up a bit as he took a drag. He looked like he was reminiscing.

"That's so him, innit. Bein' worked up about stuff like that", he murmured and shuffled his feet uncharacteristically.

_Pot, meet kettle_ was the first thing that popped into Vance's mind.

"Y'know, I'd be more at ease talkin' about this with ya if I knew more", the redhead hinted, "I mean, I heard about you pullin' him outta trouble that one time, but you two go back further than that, dont'cha? I don't know much about that."

Johnny let out a thoughtful hum from his cigarette-occupied mouth and ran his hand through his hair as he raked through his memories.

"I keep forgettin' that you moved in so recently... Most of us date way, way back in one way or another", he told.

Vance Medici nodded – he had moved in sometime after Larry's warehouse incident. He had spent most of his childhood with his mother, but his constant troublemaking had taken a toll on her, so he had been sent to his father. Not being good at committing or taking responsibility, his father had sent him to the nearest boarding school after taking him in.

"Me n' Peanut, though, we never spent time around each other when we were kids", Johnny explained.

"See, we had this gang thing goin' on in New Coventry, to be cool like the older kids. There was a lot more of us back then – there was Luis, Casey, Miller, Davis White n' his cousin, buncha guys who've moved outta this dump of a town since then..."

"Anyways, we tykes split New Coventry to eastern and western side between two gangs. The first gang war we had was about whose side was west and whose side was east – in the end, we got it the wrong way round", he said, inciting a sudden guffaw in Vance.

"Of the current greasers, me, Norton, n' Lucky were on the 'east' side and Peanut, Lefty, n' Hal were on the 'west' side. It was just a game, but we took the gang thing very seriously, so we rarely hung out together unless there was a ceasefire", he sniffled casually and tossed the remains of his cigarette away.

"How it all worked out so we ended up bein' in the same gang in Bullworth Academy is a bit hazy to me. Y'know I was in the juvie, right?"

Vance nodded, wincing. He had personal experiences with juvenile hall as well.

"So yeah, I was in the juvie for a while and had some trouble gettin' new foster parents. When I saw the guys again, they had already integrated – for the most part anyway", Johnny said while trying to stitch his recollections into a coherent image of some sort.

"That... That's where things between me n' Peanut got hairy", he stated sternly.

"Because of Lola, right?" Vance hemmed somewhat daringly.

To the junior's surprise, Johnny hesitated, then shook his head.

"I dunno, it wasn't that simple. Sure, I fell for her the moment I got outta juvie and I was riled up 'cause Peanut had gotten into her favor. But, he stuck out 'cause he was also liked by the older greasers", he said with a frown.

"As for what made him hate me – it was probably when I got popular with the older greasers and did it faster than he did. And then there was the peanut butter."

There was an awkward silence after that addition.

"... So you really _did_ put peanut butter in his food", Vance stated. Part of him had still hung on to the thought that it was all just a joke.

"Uh-huh", Johnny responded, feeling embarrassed but chuckling at it anyway.

"I thought I was a genius, too. I mean, what other way to make a guy look uncool in front of his girl than to make his face swell up n' make him gasp for air? It worked, too – Lola found it hilarious...", he said.

"Too bad that near suffocation gets pretty old after you've gone through it a couple of times. Man, what an asshole I was", Johnny then muttered awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Vance wasn't sure what to say to that understatement.

"So yeah, that's where the war between us broke out. He put dead rats n' roadkill into my locker, I rigged his bike, he signed me up for Ms. Peters' school play, I poured Earnest's ant farm into his bed, while he was in it, ... The list goes on. And we genuinely beat each other up, too."

"Yeah, I'm startin' to see why Peanut's havin' trouble with this whole thing...", Vance stated sourly and crossed his arms.

Johnny fell silent and looked at him expectantly. The redhead cocked his brow at him, not quite sure what he was supposed to add.

"Er, yeah. I wanna go talk to him. Should I?" the clique leader asked.

Vance bit his lip, pondering.

"I'm not sure... You're probably the last person on earth he wants to admit anythin' to. Also, Lola... I don't know all the stuff that happened between her n' him either. I just know he put up with a lot. Knowin' that, think you can handle him?" he asked.

"I wanna try", Johnny declared.

"Can ya do it without callin' him Peanut?" Vance inquired further, squinting his eyes.

"Was I calling him that just now?"

"All this time", the redhead regretted to inform.

"... Fuck."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Basically all I know about the American school system and social welfare system comes from watching TV and skimming through Wikipedia... So, I'm sorry if there are any headscratchers in this fic. I know I'm walking on some pretty shaky ground here, but I'm attracted to it like a freakin' moth to a flame.


	39. Stray

**Chapter 39: Stray**

It was May. It felt like the ground had been covered in snow just a moment ago and now everything was getting greener and greener. Larry Romano should have been happy that the end of his senior year was just a bit over a month away, much like his birthday, but instead his mood was taking a nose dive. It had been one hell of a year, a year full of horrible decisions, and that hardly even covered his breakup with the greasers.

See, despite his sister having reminded him about how stupid it was, he had neglected his future and now he knew he'd pay the price soon enough. He hadn't been accepted to any school, or any apprenticeship program. He had some money saved up, but really, what was he going to do once his sister got married? The truly problematic part was that Larry had no idea what he wanted from his life. He had never really known what to do with it, just what he didn't want to do with it. He hadn't bothered thinking about his options when he'd had them when and now those options were limited.

It would have helped if he had at least had a person he could talk about these things without being the one to sit, pretend to listen, and nod, which he inevitably did with Connie. But no, he had decided to avoid being around the dropouts until their skirmishes with the greasers were over. Out of spite, more dropouts had started to skulk around New Coventry more often, ambushing off-guard greasers when they were walking the streets in small numbers. The way things were going now, it was only a matter of time before these hostilities would culminate in an all-out rumble between the two cliques.

So yeah, until he'd pick a side, Larry would receive hardly anything but suspicious glares from these people he was now even more reluctant to call his friends. Though the cheap labor drones, desperate to make a buck, and lazy trailer trash had hardly any camaraderie between them, in hate they were all united. Even a lot of people at Larry's workplace who probably had no personal gripes with him were now being mysteriously uncooperative and grouchy in his presence because someone had apparently gossiped that he had gotten in through relations and now thought himself to be above giving a helping hand to Edgar Munsen and his guys.

It was sort of true, too. Although he couldn't justify it, Larry felt he was above all this. Or, that at least he had supposed to be. His part-time job in Blue Skies was only supposed to be a brief pit stop, not his last straw. Yet, he wasn't able to find another job in Bullworth that didn't require his own car, good people skills, years of work experience, or something else he didn't have. How had Jimmy Hopkins ever managed to get a bunch of different jobs without even trying? Larry had no idea.

With these thoughts churning and stirring in his mind, Larry pedaled downtown from work. He wasn't aware of it, but he was about to find out that his home was less of a safe haven than he had thought; there was a guest waiting for him there, someone he did not want to see or talk to. There was no warning until it was too late: as he stomped inside his sister's apartment and took his outdoor clothes off, Connie rushed to meet him at the door.

"Ah! Finally! Now that you're here, I can go shopping. I couldn't just leave the guest here alone", she chirped as she quickly pulled her boots on and threw her coat over her shoulders.

"Wha?" Larry asked as he was about to hang his jacket.

Around that very second, the boy caught on and fought very hard not to curse loudly. Right where his clothes usually hung, rested an overly familiar leather jacket.

"Go on! You two have a school assignment you need to work on, right?" Connie said and pushed her brother into the living room.

"I'll be back soon – tell Stanley to wait if he comes here while I'm gone!" she ordered as she left the apartment, closing the door behind her with a bang. Larry was now alone in the apartment with the bane of his existence, who was observing his sour expression with all the schadenfreude in the world.

"Hi Larry", Lola Lombardi greeted and cocked her brow as she sat comfortably on Connie's sofa. The place where Larry usually slept.

Larry looked at her quietly for a moment, feverishly trying to figure out a way to throw her out without her sending the hounds after him for trying to assault her or something.

"_School assignment_, huh?"

"Of course not", the girl giggled, waving her hand limp-wristedly at her old partner/servant/chew toy.

"... Whatever it is, I don't wanna hear it. So you can just, er, leave", Larry growled, immediately wincing at the awkward stutter in the middle.

"Aww, but I thought you'd wanna hear the good news", Lola bemoaned.

"I've heard it already, so you don't hafta bother", grunted the boy.

"Oh come on, Larry. Neither of us are psychics – I don't know what you mean by 'it' and you have no idea what I'm here to tell you", Lola said casually, but with an impatient edge to her words.

"So, let's start with what you've heard this far", she continued, crossing her legs. She blinked lazily and left her eyes half-lidded like a cat, a cat that's about to hug your wrist and shred your hand into ribbons.

An ice-cold feeling spread in Larry's gut – he felt sick under those scrutinizing, condescending eyes. How could Lola have come to his sister's home and start pushing him around so confidently? What did she have over him? For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out, and yet his brain violently rejected the thought that maybe Lola had no power over him. She _always _had something.

"Well?" she said expectantly, her foot bobbing up and down in the air.

Involuntarily, Larry clicked back into his old form. The numb, submissive state of a sheep.

"I heard you n' Johnny broke up again", he said obediently.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Lola chuckled at how unsuspecting he was – he was certainly assuming that that's all there was, that her and Johnny's relationship had just another little hiccup.

"That's not all", she said quietly and shook her head.

Her expression mellowed down a bit as she both admired and pitied her own work: although Larry had the insolence to not be attracted to her anymore and was dangling by but a thread from the social circles she had once dominated, she had the upper hand. Then again, she had failed to breathe life into the corpse that was once Larry's and Johnny's rivalry.

"What I came to tell you is... I finally crossed the line", she revealed.

Larry blinked, confused.

"With Johnny?" he asked doubtfully.

"Him, too. But that's not so important", Lola said monotonously.

Larry was about to call shenanigans on her – who could be more important than her crown jewel? Her favorite chew toy, her insurance, her... Oh.

"Your grandma", he breathed. Lola nodded.

"Granny finally lost it. She said I'm not welcome in her house", she told, seeming inexplicably relieved.

"W-what did you do?" Larry asked somewhat nervously, almost expecting that Lola had abused her or something.

"I told her what I told Johnny, and just a bit more. I told her I was pregnant but also that I got an abortion. I told her I didn't regret it at all...", she said with a faint grin.

Larry wasn't sure what to think, except that Lola was sick. Then again, he had thought that for a long time.

"Don't you get it? I did it; I'm free", she said, seeming genuinely disappointed that Larry didn't seem to understand.

When Larry didn't yield and continued to stare at her with a harsh, cold expression, she sighed. Of course: she was expecting too much. She knew she was. But she still felt let down, somehow.

"Never mind, I suppose", she said bitterly.

"You don't know what it's like, having everyone fooled. Having made so many lies that people think your true self is the impostor", she continued with a low voice that made Larry shudder in discomfort.

"Finally, Johnny and granny are done, off my case", she mumbled and leaned against her hand.

As much as Larry hated himself for it, he understood her motive, sort of.

"So, you don't have a home anymore, and nobody to care about you. Now what?" Larry asked.

"I'm leaving this state", Lola said without hesitation.

"What?"

"Those are the good news I came to talk about. I'm leaving for good: I'm going somewhere far and I'm not gonna look back", she voiced proudly, excitedly.

Silence fell into Connie's living room as Larry tried to figure out what to say about that.

"I thought you'd be happy about that", Lola said with a blink when he didn't seem to be able to come up with a comment.

"I... I dunno", Larry blurted out, to the surprise of both him and her.

"How... How's Johnny?" he suddenly stammered.

"Ha, I knew you'd ask that, eventually. He took the breakup surprisingly well. A couple of days ago, I caught up with him again to inform I was leaving and he didn't seem too bothered", Lola assured.

"You being gay for him – he's taken that pretty well, too", she added casually.

Suddenly, Larry tensed. In an instant, his expression warped from dull to mad.

"Get outta here", he said huskily, gritting his teeth.

"But I'm 100% seri-"

"Not that", the boy snarled under his breath, "I want you to get the hell outta here before I fucking hit you!"

Lola could tell that he was exaggerating. But, she was impressed by his emotional response nevertheless, so she stood up politely and walked slowly to the door. Without turning around, she grabbed her leopard print leather jacket, put it on, and made her exit.

"Goodbye, Larry", her voice echoed affectionately from the hallway as she closed the door.

Larry was left in his sister's apartment, alone and boiling with anger, agony, and anxiety. He had been brought to the verge of tears, but he refused to cry again. This was, fortunately, the last time that Lola Lombardi had this effect on him.


End file.
